


Windy Webs

by silentsaebyeok



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fic Collection [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Broken Bones, Don't copy to another site, Found Family Bingo, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is regretting his decisions, Physical Therapy, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Surgery, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony and May team up to parent Peter, Whump, Whumptober 2019, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), platonic co-parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsaebyeok/pseuds/silentsaebyeok
Summary: And that was it. He was officially an idiot. Peter didn’t mean to be dramatic, but this was one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him, even if there was no one around to witness the fall of the century.--Peter goes web-slinging in dangerous weather and gets seriously injured. It doesn't help that he has to spend the whole summer living with the consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KitCat992](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitCat992/gifts).

> This work is dedicated to my wonderful and supportive friend, [KitCat992](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitCat992) who believes in me and my writing skills when I don't believe in myself. And for always being a listening ear for my fic ideas and helping me with them when I need it. If you haven't checked out her amazing fics, you need to. She is one of the most talented authors in this fandom.  
\--  
This work is written for the prompt "setting a broken bone" for Bad Things Happen Bingo (even though the setting of the bone happens "off screen"), the prompt "injury" for Found Family Bingo and prompt "#30-recovery" for Whumptober 2019. I decided to kill three birds with one stone. Why not, right?  
\--  
This work as a few slightly AU elements to it. It takes place the summer after Peter's sophomore year (the school year in which Spider-Man: Homecoming takes place) but Tony never sold the Avengers Tower, and the compound doesn't exist in this work. Bruce Banner is also present, so take that as you will. Most of this isn't very relevant, but I needed the tower for logistical purposes and I like Bruce so I wanted to include him. *shrugs*

The past three weeks had been stifling. Between the homework, tests, projects and finals that marked the end of his sophomore year, Peter hadn’t found a single second to patrol the neighborhood. He hadn’t even had much time to _think_ about patrolling and was more than excited to don the suit and catch some criminals.

The only problem was he was getting antsy. Yesterday was the last day of school, and he’d wanted to patrol the moment he bolted out Midtown’s front doors, but Karen had advised against it. It was extremely windy out and she informed him of how dangerous it would be.

He knew she was probably right. The hot, summer air had pelted against his skin on his walk to and from the subway station and it made him wonder why the school hadn’t just cancelled the last day of classes. It wasn’t like the last day was anything of value anyway.

But the wind hadn’t let up at all in the past twenty-four hours. In fact, trudging from his bedroom to the living room and turning on the local news, he found it was even windier than yesterday. And as he stared at the reporter braving the elements and yelling into his microphone to be heard over the din of noise, he realized this wind story was quickly turning into the type of thing the Weather Channel would cover for hours on end.

Ugh. He just wanted to go web-slinging. Feel the rush of wind against his body and the butterflies in his stomach as he rose and fell amongst the buildings. There probably weren’t any criminals out in this type of weather, but regardless, he needed to feel the freedom that came with being Spider-Man. He needed to get _outside. _It had been too long. He couldn’t take it anymore!

He would probably be fine. Karen was just being overly cautious as usual. Overly cautious because Mr. Stark programmed her to be that way. Because Mr. Stark thought he couldn’t handle himself. Thought he couldn’t make rational decisions.

Staring at the news ticker on the screen, he realized something. Seventy-five miles-per-hour wasn’t that big of a deal, right? He was Spider-Man. He could deal with a little wind. He had super strength. And besides, he’d gone patrolling in windy conditions before.

He would be fine.

\--

_Ah, finally!_ Peter thought as he began a slow, leisurely swing from his apartment toward the Empire State Building. _Freedom._

By his logic, Midtown Manhattan was the best place to put all his pent-up energy into. The buildings were tall enough to get the adrenaline rush he so desired, but they weren’t tall enough to be dangerous in these winds. The exhilaration of jumping off Lower Manhattan skyscrapers would have to wait another day.

It was strange to swing around the city on a day like this. It was the beginning of June, and normally, there would be thousands of people milling about and enjoying their time in the sun. But today, the streets were practically deserted. Everyone was taking cover in their homes or workplaces, not willing to risk their sanity by venturing out in this weather.

What that said about Peter’s sanity, he didn’t know.

As he swung across the Queensboro Bridge and made his way into Manhattan, he began to wonder if this was a bad idea. The scaffolding on a building close by was swaying dangerously in the wind, as if it would come loose and collapse at any moment. And a block away, he could see debris being forcefully pushed into the sky, flying at speeds he didn’t want to encounter head on.

It would be fine, right? He just needed to keep his eyes peeled and avoid hazards. He had super strength. It would be fine.

Perching on top of a swaying lamppost, he thought about where to go next. His original plan was to jump off the Empire State building, feel the wind race past him and the swoop of his stomach. But he kind of wanted to try something new. 

In the distance, he could see the sleek, gleaming windows and slim figure of 432 Park Avenue. For some reason, the structure held a sort of strange sentimental value to him. It opened around the same time he got his powers and was quickly becoming as controversial as he was, if the Daily Bugle had anything to say about it. Between claiming he was a ‘menace’ and calling 432 Park Avenue an ‘eyesore’ and a ‘disgrace to the city,’ the tabloid didn’t report on much anything else.

Peter supposed they were meant for each other.

That was it then. The first stop on his web-slinging extravaganza.

\--

Maybe it was his imagination, but the wind seemed to be increasing in intensity as he scaled higher and higher. The slim building seemed to be swaying more than the normal amount for the city’s skyscrapers, and Peter wondered yet again if he’d made a good decision. 

But he was almost to the top. It was too late to turn back now. The only way down was to swing.

Coming to a standing position on the roof, the wind whipped around him, pelting him with a force he had to physically brace himself to withstand. But he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Because it felt liberating. To be out in the open. To be on top of one of the city’s tallest buildings. And the kind of freedom he hadn’t felt at all in the past few weeks flooded his veins.

It was time. He was going to have the time of his life!

\--

Looking back, Peter wasn’t sure when the exact moment of idiocy befell him. Was it when he decided to ignore Karen’s warnings? Was it the moment he left his apartment? Or was it the terrifying moment of miscalculation? One where he somehow hadn’t realized something as flimsy as a web could be blown off course so easily in these wind speeds.

Regardless, he lost control. He lost control and fell almost ninety floors and over a thousand feet. There wasn’t much to it, he didn’t think. One minute he was flying, and the next he was falling.

It happened so fast, the wind clawing at his suit and his body, suffocating him with its force and taking his breath away. He wasn’t sure when his garbled mind made the decision to try and land on his feet, but he had.

It was an action that came with almost immediate regret.

Pain lanced through his legs at a vicious rate, and he felt shockwaves of the impact tear through him, stealing the air right out of his chest. He felt bones crunching and popping, moving in directions he was positive were not good. The unfortunate sounds of multiple breaks assaulted his ears. Sounds he thought would be reserved for patrols or Avengers missions. Not a moment as ridiculous as this. Where his judgment failed him, and his powers did too.

He must have blacked out for a moment, because one second he felt the pain of impact, of his legs slamming brutally against the ground. And the next he was staring up into the sky, flat on his back, feeling nothing but regret and remorse.

And that was it. He was officially an idiot. Peter didn’t mean to be dramatic, but this was one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him, even if there was no one around to witness the fall of the century.

He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, masking the ridiculous levels of pain he was sure to feel later. He had to get up. He had to find help. And from the sounds his bones made, he knew he would need all the help he could get. 

Somewhere along the line, he realized his ears were ringing. A high-pitched sound that blocked out everything else. And as he tried to push himself into a sitting position, he realized he was shaking. Trembling. Arms barely able to support his weight.

And once he finally _did_ maneuver himself into a sitting position, he made the grave mistake of looking down. Both femurs and a bone in his lower right leg that he couldn’t remember the name of were sticking out. Penetrating his skin and the tough exterior of his suit alike. His right ankle was bulging, turned at an unnatural and sickening angle. And blood was beginning to pool around the open injuries.

For some reason, it was the sight of blood that caused him to lose his stomach. And it was only in the nick of time that he was able to pull his mask above his mouth and nose and turn to the side to vomit.

When his stomach finally ceased spilling its contents, the pain returned full force, sharp and hot, blistering and screaming. He could feel the extreme winds pelting against his broken flesh and open bone, a sickening feeling that almost made him retch again. As he let out a strangled whimper, it was at that moment he realized he was totally and utterly screwed.

Ugh. Mr. Stark was going to kill him. But only if May didn’t kill him first.

He flopped back down, laying on the pavement and letting out a long groan. The pain was beginning to take over his every thought, and he knew if he didn’t try and get up—didn’t try to find help fast, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere at all.

Just as he was about to try and sit up again, the ringing in his ears stopped. He could hear again. And with that, he found the voice of Karen speaking frantically. And he wondered, with a detached sort of feeling, how it was possible for her to sound so scared. Apparently, she’d already called for help. Mr. Stark was coming, and he was bringing Dr. Banner and some medical personnel with him.

Peter had never felt more grateful for the close proximity of the Avengers Tower in his life.

\--

Multiple faces were crowding him. Voices were talking. And he was pretty sure they were talking to him. But he couldn’t think about any of it. He couldn’t think past the blinding, blistering pain in his legs. It was a fire running through him. Destructive in every way imaginable. Hot and incessant in its burning. But he also felt cold. Extremely cold. The wind relentlessly pelting against him. Not letting up. He was shaking.

People were manipulating his arms, pulling them out of his suit and attaching things to them. Someone was shining a light in his eyes, causing him to squint and turn his head away.

“He’s too cold. I can’t get a reading on his pulse-ox.”

“Tony, go get a couple of shock blankets from the ambulance, will you?”

The voices washed over him. But he couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. Couldn’t identify the faces of the people around him. His thoughts were coming together in jumbled messes. They were useless. Short and incomplete. The backdrop of _pain pain pain pain pain_ interrupting them. A constant reminder that beat in time with his pulse.

“You’re doing great, Peter.” A voice in his ear said. “Just a little bit longer and we can get you an IV full of the good stuff.”

Feeling a slight moment of clarity come upon him, he turned his head to the side and found the concerned face of Dr. Banner, and for a moment, Peter wondered where he came from. But then he remembered. Karen called for help. She called for help and at some point, through his haze of pain, the help had arrived.

“Hi, Peter. You back with us?” He asked.

He groaned as a way of answering. In far too much pain to even attempt a proper response.

“Just try and relax. We are getting you prepped for an ambulance ride to the tower. You are doing great.”

Peter decided to try and follow Dr. Banner’s advice, closing his eyes and taking as deep a breath as he could through the pain.

After a minute of trying to relax, he was startled by someone adjusting an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and inserting an IV into the back of his hand. He opened his eyes to find an unknown medic securing the mask’s strap around the back of his head.

“We’re just giving you some oxygen and pain relief.” The woman needlessly supplied. “You are doing so good.”

“Peter?” Dr. Banner’s stressed-looking face came into his line of vision. “I’m going to inject your pain meds into the IV now. Don’t be alarmed if you feel a slight burning. It’s completely normal.”

Peter nodded. Wondering why the man had even bothered to explain that last part when he’d been looped up on his super drugs a few times before.

Maybe they were giving him a higher dose or something.

Not long after that last thought, Peter felt the burn of the drug and the blissful semi-awareness that soon followed. Somewhere through his medicated haze he felt someone tuck warm blankets around him and move his body onto a softer surface, but he didn’t much care. At least he wasn’t feeling as much pain anymore.

\--

This was _not_ how Tony expected his day to go.

It turned out, being stuck in the back of an ambulance with a semi-conscious spider-kid wasn’t his idea of fun. In fact, he was pretty sure the shock he felt when FRIDAY alerted him to the situation shaved ten years off his life. It couldn’t have been good for his heart. At all.

And if Tony was being honest with himself, after the initial shock and concern at the horrifying news ebbed away, he felt a righteous sense of irritation. _Why in the hell_ was Peter out doing his spider-gig in these conditions? Didn’t he realize how dangerous it was? Had he even used his pea-sized teenage brain at all? Tony hadn’t the faintest idea. But it made him regret—not for the first time—thinking that a soon-to-be sixteen-year-old could be trusted with the kind of thing he didn’t even trust himself with.

Granted, he was getting out of a yawn-inducing R&D meeting, but he wasn’t sure it was worth it, the words _be careful what you wish for _coming to the forefront of his mind. Mocking him. Dishing out a little more of that bad luck he vehemently despised. Because he certainly didn’t wish to spend his afternoon in the back of a racing ambulance. One that only God-knows-how was staying upright in these conditions.

And although the tower was only twelve blocks from the site of Peter’s fall, it turned out Bruce hadn’t brought enough drugs with him to keep Peter out of it. He had somehow grabbed the wrong dose in their haste to get to the kid. And after about ten minutes, Peter had burned through most of what they had given him, causing him to hiss and moan in pain with every bump and jostle in the road.

The winds assaulting the sides of the small vehicle certainly weren’t helping either, but at least he’d been out of it for the transfer from the ground to the gurney. Small miracles were all he could hope for at this point. 

Tony wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t mad at the kid. And he would definitely earn a stern talking-to once he was all sorted out. But for right now, the concern was returning in full force.

The kid had certainly done a number on himself. His legs were totally wrecked. And Tony wouldn’t lie, he was worried. Even with his crazy healing abilities, he knew the recovery wouldn’t be a walk in the park. After Bruce and the two medics that ventured out into this insane weather with them scanned Peter’s injuries and began the triage process, he was given the low-down. And it was definitely _not_ what he wanted to hear.

_“Tony, you’re gonna want to call Cho for this one.” Bruce said while looking down at the display of a Stark Industries portable med scanner, worry evident on his face. _

_“Just give it to me straight.” Tony snapped. “What are we dealing with here?” _

_“He needs surgery, and you know I’m not qualified to do that. We have to call Cho.” _

_“Okay, Big Green, I’ll call Cho! Just tell me what we’re dealing with!” Tony all but yelled. _

_Bruce looked slightly abashed at his outburst, but Tony couldn’t help it. He was worried about the kid. And he didn’t like how the man was beating around the bush. _

_“Well… as you can see, he has three compound fractures.” Bruce said, gesturing to Peter and the two medics who were surrounding him on the ground. “Both femurs and the lower right tibia. This is why he needs surgery, Tony. Not even his healing can fix this alone.” _

_Tony just nodded, not wanting to further the yelling match._

_“But that’s not the only thing.” Bruce continued. “He also has an oblique fracture in his right fibula. You can see on the scan that it was a clean break. Which means we need to get him to the tower fast, or we might have to re-break it if it heals wrong.”_

_“You think his healing could take care of a simple break that fast?” Tony asked._

_Bruce shifted minutely in place. A tell Tony knew meant he was stressed. “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to risk it.” _

_Tony nodded, sighing. “Okay, what else you got?”_

_“His right talus is shattered. That’s the ankle bone.” Bruce helpfully supplied. “Other than that… if he has other injuries I won’t know until we can get him scanned on a more powerful machine than this.” He said, wiggling the portable scanner in his arms. _

_Tony rubbed his face with his hand. This was not good. Even if Peter didn’t have any more injuries, this still wasn’t going to be one of the simple after-patrol fixes he’d become used to dealing with in the past six-or-so months._

_Bruce must have sensed his distress, for he said, “he’s really lucky, Tony. A fall from that height would’ve killed anyone without enhancements. And I’m honestly surprised he didn’t injure his back or head. Like I said, he’s really lucky.” _

_“Okay.” Tony answered, trying to get his wits about him. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”_

_“I need to give Peter some painkillers for transportation. While I’m doing that, call Cho. Tell her what’s going on. You should probably call Peter’s aunt too.”_

_Shit. He forgot about May. That wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. _

_“Alright.” He said, resigning himself to his fate. _

Tony was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Peter loudly crying out in pain as the ambulance was jolted by a particularly violent gust of wind.

“Shhhh. It’s okay, kid. Just focus on something else.” He soothed, grabbing the kid’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Apparently, Peter was more coherent than he thought, because one second he was holding a limp hand in his, and the next Peter was squeezing his hand back. Hard. Hard enough to hurt.

“Mis’er S’ark?” Peter slurred, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side. “It really ‘urts.”

“I know, kid. You’re okay. We’ll get you more pain meds once we get to the tower.”

As they went over another bump, Peter groaned in response, arching his back as best he could despite his injuries. Tony didn’t know what to do. The kid was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything about it until they got to the tower and pumped him full of more drugs.

“Shhh. Try and relax, Pete. You’ll be okay.” He said, realizing his words were probably useless, but he tried anyway. “Just hold on, kid. Just hold on.”

\--

The moment they wheeled Peter into the tower’s medbay, it was chaos. Nurses and doctors surrounded the gurney and pushed Tony out of the way, telling him he could come back once Peter’s injuries were stabilized and the pain meds had taken effect.

For a moment, Tony just stood in the hallway. Trying to take in everything that had happened in the past hour or so. Trying to catch his breath and figure out what to do next. For some reason, he had to keep reminding himself that Peter wasn’t dying. That he wasn’t even close to dying. That the only thing wrong with him was that his legs were royally fucked.

Helen Cho would be here in about forty minutes. Luck was on their side just a little bit it seemed. Tony was worried Bruce and the tower’s medical staff would have to keep Peter calm and sedated for eighteen-plus hours as Cho made the journey across the Pacific Ocean. But she wasn’t in Korea. She was much closer than that. It turned out there was an annual genetics conference in Norfolk, Virginia going on, and she was at it.

_Small miracles._ Tony thought. _Small miracles._

Just then, a flurry of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“No, Happy! Let me through! I need to see my baby with my own eyes!” A haggard-looking May was struggling against Happy’s hold, pounding on his chest with one of her fists.

“I can’t, May. The doctors won’t let anyone in there right now. They’re stabilizing him.” Happy said. And from his tone of voice, Tony could tell he was already tired of dealing with the panicking woman.

Deciding to try and defuse the situation and take May off Happy’s hands, Tony walked over to the pair, ready to give her every bit of information he knew so far. That was how it was with May. Either you gave her every detail or didn’t alert her to the situation at all, and the latter was clearly not an option in this scenario.

If one thing was for certain, May Parker was extremely protective of her nephew.

“Tony? Oh, thank God!” She said the moment she spotted him. “What happened? Is Peter okay? Happy said they’re stabilizing him.”

“They are.” Tony confirmed. And at the look of horror on her face, he continued. “But its not life-threatening. They are just trying to get his pain under control and keep his wounds clean until an associate of mine, a doctor, gets here.”

“You had to call in another doctor?” She asked, confusion and a little bit of fear evident on her face.

Tony sighed. “Come on, May. Let’s take a walk. I’ll tell you everything.”

And as they began walking down the hall, Tony didn’t miss the look of relief and thanks on Happy’s face.

\--

Helen Cho arrived just as Tony was finishing his conversation with May, and he had never been happier to see her. She looked a little flustered to have been called in so suddenly, but regardless, she still extruded the air of professionalism he had become so accustomed to.

After taking a look at Peter, the woman called them into his hospital room to discuss where they would go from here. May instantly made her way to Peter’s side, anxious to look after and comfort him. The nurses had definitely doped him up on the good stuff again, for he was clearly out of it. His only reaction to May stroking his head was to hum and open his eyes for a few seconds before they drooped shut again.

Tony noticed the nurses had cleaned him up and put him in a hospital gown. It looked strange, and in stark contrast to the gaping wounds and twisted bones of his legs. Usually, he encountered people in hospital attire _after_ their injuries had been treated, not before. It was also not lost on him how small and young he looked like that, eyes peacefully closed and face resting against May’s hand. And for the millionth time in the past two hours, he wondered why he’d thought bringing a kid into this world was a good idea.

Helen cleared her throat and brought him back to the present and away from his thoughts. She wasn’t the type to mince words. She was a straight shooter. Honest and to the point. It was one of her best qualities in Tony’s opinion, and one of the reasons he liked to keep her around opposed to other doctors. And today was no different.

“I’m going to take him in for surgery in about an hour.” She began the moment both of them were settled in the chairs around Peter’s bed. “The OR is being prepped as we speak. These compound fractures need to be closed up as soon as possible.”

“Are you going to do all three at once?” May asked, still looking just as anxious as she did upon entering the building. 

Helen nodded. “If it were any other patient, it wouldn’t be possible, but with Peter’s enhancements, he’ll be fine to be under anesthesia for such an extended period. We also plan to operate on his shattered talus as well.”

The doctor moved on to explain what each procedure would entail, along with the expected recovery time and needed physical therapy. Peter was in for a rough summer, and although Tony was very upset with the little stunt he pulled, he also felt sorry for the kid. Because whatever summer plans he originally had, they definitely weren’t happening now.

And he was too out of it to comprehend how shitty this would be for him.

“Now, I won’t lie.” Helen continued. “Compound fractures are very serious, and unlike other bone injuries, they have a very high risk of infection. We are hoping Peter’s abilities will keep him from getting one, but as a precaution, we are putting him on heavy doses of antibiotics. We will continue to monitor him closely while he’s here in the medbay as well.”

Tony looked over at May. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her forehead was creased in thought. She looked grim and worried. And although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Tony was worried too. He knew bone infections were nasty business and hard to treat. He supposed the only thing to do was hope Peter’s healing would come to his aid.

“Do either of you have any questions?” Helen asked when neither of them responded to her antibiotic declaration.

May shook her head, but Tony remembered Bruce telling him Peter had five broken bones and Helen had only discussed operating on four.

“What about the other one?” Tony asked, not remembering what other bone Bruce said he’d broken. “Are you not doing surgery on it? The other bone he broke?”

“Oh, the fibula.” Helen said. “No, we are not doing surgery on it at the moment. I am confident it will heal on its own if kept immobile. But we will continue to monitor it in the coming days.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Cho.” May said, voice weary and worried.

“Of course.” She answered, smiling. “Both of you are free to stay until a nurse comes to take him to the OR.” And with that, she exited the room.

Tony let out a long sigh. Peter had certainly cut his work out for him. He needed to find Pepper, and not just for the emotional support he so desperately craved right now, but so she could cancel all his meetings and press appearances for the foreseeable future. He was needed here. He couldn’t bare the thought of doing other things while Peter was in surgery and he didn’t want to leave May alone either.

That was another reason he needed Pepper. Although Queens wasn’t too far from here, Tony doubted May would want to leave the tower at all for the next few days. She would need a place to sleep, and Pepper was perfect for the job of arranging a comfortable bedroom for her.

He also needed to vet Helen’s suggestions for the physical therapist, run background checks, read their resumes and prepare an NDA for the one he chose. It all seemed like a paperwork nightmare, but he supposed he had no choice if he wanted the kid to get better.

Just then, one of the nurses came in, knocking politely on the door frame before entering.

“I’m here to take Peter to the operating room.” The young man said. “I’ll give you a moment to say your goodbyes.”

Tony’s didn’t like the way he phrased that last sentence, but figured it wasn’t worth the trouble getting mad about. Turning his eyes toward the nurse’s nametag, he said, “thank you, Carlos.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be right outside the door whenever you’re ready.”

Tony nodded and turned back to May who was already enveloping her semi-coherent nephew in a hug.

“I love you, baby. Be good, okay? Your legs will be fixed in no time.” She said, running a hand through his hair.

“My legs?” Peter slurred, opening his glossy eyes and scrunching his brows together.

“That’s right, honey. You hurt your legs, remember?”

“Oh. It was windy ou’side. I was bein’ dumb.”

Tony decided to jump in at that moment. “You were being extremely dumb, Mr. Parker. But we’ll save that conversation for another time.” He said, patting Peter on the shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “For now, just focus on doing well in surgery, okay?” 

“Mis’er S’ark?” Peter asked, trying to meet Tony’s eyes and failing miserably. “Where’d you come from?”

“Been here the whole time, kiddo.” Tony said, trying to keep himself from laughing at how out of it Peter was.

“Oh. Okay.”

And as the nurse returned to take Peter away, May grabbed his hand one last time. “I’ll be right by your side when you wake up, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter slurred. “Love you, May.”

“Love you too, baby.”

\--

Awareness came slowly. The first coherent thought Peter had was that the beeping noise assaulting his ears was extremely annoying. It felt like it was piercing his skull and he just wanted to get up and turn it off. But he couldn’t. He was tired. And there was an invisible weight pressing down on him. He felt heavy, but he also felt as if he was floating. It was a weird sensation.

Apparently, the assault on his ears wasn’t enough, because the next thing he noticed was the permeating smell of antiseptic. Ugh he hated that smell. And somewhere in his muddled brain, he figured he must be in a hospital. The smell gave it away.

Forcing himself to open his eyes, he looked around. May was asleep in the chair next to his bedside, her hand clutching his. She looked tired and stressed, even in her sleep. And somehow, opening his eyes and looking at his sleeping aunt jogged his memory. He had tried web-slinging from the top of the residential tower at 432 Park Avenue. He tried it in the windiest weather possible.

And now he was in the hospital.

Ugh. He was really fucking stupid.

“You awake, kid?” A voice from the doorway asked.

Peter jumped slightly, muted pain from his legs making itself known. In his drugged haze, he hadn’t realized Mr. Stark was standing there.

“Mis’er S’ark!” Peter said, tongue feeling two sizes too big and mouth as dry as the Sahara. Suddenly he realized he was very thirsty. 

His mentor must have read his mind, because the next thing he knew, a straw and cup were being held to his mouth and he was ordered to drink. The water tasted glorious to his parched mouth and he found himself gulping it down quickly and greedily. 

“How are you feeling, Pete?” Mr. Stark asked when he was finished drinking, gaze seeming to scrutinize him.

Peter took a moment to assess himself, but the contents of Mr. Stark’s last sentence finally seemed to dawn on him. “Wait—you’re not gonna lecture me?”

The man slowly raised one eyebrow, looking at Peter perceptively. “Oh, I’m going to lecture you, alright. But I want to wait for Aunt Hottie to wake up so we can corner you together.”

“Why? Its not like I can run away.” Peter pouted.

It looked as if Mr. Stark was just barely holding his retort in, sighing and rubbing his face in his hands. And after an awkward pause, he finally spoke again. “You didn’t answer my question. How are you feeling?”

“Um…” Peter said, taking a moment to _truly_ assess himself this time. He honestly wasn’t feeling much pain at the moment. There, but not overwhelming. It was mostly dull. Not throbbing and blinding the way it was in the ambulance. “I’m okay. Can’t really feel much if I’m being honest.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “The drugs are doing their job then.”

Peter hummed in agreement letting his eyes drift shut. After all, his super painkillers were enough to knock him off his ass for days, and he didn’t really understand why he was awake right now in the first place. But despite the call to sleep he felt, he forced himself to open his eyes again. He still had so many questions.

He must have had a stupid, drugged look on his face, because when he opened his eyes, Mr. Stark said, “go to sleep, kid. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Peter was more than happy to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 432 Park Avenue is a real building in Midtown Manhattan. It is one of the tallest buildings in New York City and was very controversial at the time of completion (in 2015, I believe).  
\--  
As will be made clearer in future chapters, I have taken some liberty with Peter's healing factor. In the comics, it is inconsistent and not clearly defined. In some comics, he heals extremely quickly, and in others he gets seriously injured from things that don't make much sense. Therefore, I've decided to play by my own rules. I hope you won't mind.  
\--  
Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. They keep ya girl writing! :)  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! If you will notice, I've upped the chapter count in this work from 3 to 4! :) While working on the third, and what I initially thought was the final chapter, it was getting way too long, so I've decided to split it (roughly) in half. Therefore, you guys get an extra chapter! Yay! :)  
\--  
This chapter is written for the prompt "full-name ultimatum" for Found Family Bingo.  
\--  
If any of you lovely readers are interested in getting your own Found Family Bingo card, you can fill out the form [here.](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeX1aF3797aL4P1GnLNEm1xbFINk2yYEf8nCp0DpO36pU950Q/viewform) You can also follow their Tumblr [here.](https://foundfamilybingo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My wonderful friend [LibraryMage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage) from the Star Wars fandom is one of the creators of the event, and I know she would absolutely love to see more participants! Anyone from any fandom can join as long as you write about found family. :)

The next time Peter woke, it wasn’t slowly. It was all at once and to searing pain and all-consuming nausea. As if a wave of pain and sickness had crashed over him and jolted him awake. He was vaguely aware he was moaning and gasping and spluttering, but the fire in his legs and the nausea in his stomach were consuming his thoughts. 

May’s worried face appeared above him, grasping his hand and asking him if he was alright.

“I think…” Peter choked out, moaning in between words. “I think… I’m gonna… throw up.”

Suddenly, the head of his bed was being raised up and a light-pink plastic basin was being shoved into his hands. And just in time too; he began to heave the moment it was situated under him. 

“Shhh. Just relax, honey. The doctor will be here in just a moment. You’re doing great.” May said, rubbing a calming hand across his back as he continued to dry-heave, his stomach already empty.

And as the nausea began to die down, the fire in his legs garnered his full attention. Slumping back against the pillows, he let out a hiss of pain, arching his back a little and clenching the bedsheets in his hands.

May was stroking his hair now. Normally, that action would lull him to sleep, but at the moment, he just tried his best to focus on that instead of the pain.

A very concerned-looking Mr. Stark burst into the room not long after that, followed quickly by a beautiful dark-haired woman on his heels. Both of them looked as if they had been sleeping, clad in pajamas with tussled hair. It confused Peter for a moment, until he looked out the window and realized it was dark outside.

“What’s going on?” Mr. Stark was the first to ask.

“Peter threw up.” May supplied. “And he’s in a lot of pain.”

The dark-haired woman nodded at the news, and Peter belatedly realized she must be the doctor. “Nausea is unfortunately common with heavy-duty antibiotics.” She said, sighing. “And normally I would prescribe nausea medication to go with them but….”

“You don’t have something that will work with his metabolism. Great.” Mr. Stark grumbled, looking more upset than Peter thought he needed to be.

“Tony, we’re lucky Bruce already made a pain medication and antibiotics that work for him.” The doctor said, rounding on Mr. Stark. “I’ll talk to him and see if there is something he can do.”

His mentor seemed to deflate at that. “Okay. Sorry, Helen.” He said, letting out a long sigh.

After nodding at Mr. Stark, the doctor—who he now knew was named Helen—turned back toward him and approached the bed, sitting on one of those doctor stools that every hospital seemed to have.

“Hello, Peter. I’m Dr. Helen Cho.” She said, holding out a hand for him to shake. “I talked to you before your surgery, but you probably don’t remember it.”

He didn’t.

“Hi.” He said wearily, grasping her hand and continuously trying to push the pain to the back of his mind.

“Can you tell me how much pain you’re in? On a scale from one to ten?” Dr. Cho asked, looking through a chart he presumed was his.

“Eight.” He said, clenching his teeth as another wave of fresh agony seared through his legs. And in all honesty, it might have been a nine or a nine-point-five, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her with May and Mr. Stark in the room.

“Well, according to your chart, you aren’t due for more painkillers for a few hours. But it looks like we’ll have to up the dose.”

“But why?” May asked. And although she was trying to hide it from him, Peter could tell she was clearly upset.

“Major bone surgery is one of the most painful things for the human body to experience and giving Peter the same dose of medication he would get after a dislocated shoulder or a small burn clearly isn’t cutting it. I can safely up his dose thirty more milligrams before it gets dangerous, but as of right now I believe upping the dose ten more milligrams will do the trick.”

Peter didn’t care about dosage and milligrams, the only thing he could think about were the words _major bone surgery._ And suddenly he realized he had no idea what happened after the ambulance ride to the tower. 

“Wait!” Peter said. “What’s going on? I know I go hurt, but how bad? Like, what happened?”

All the adults in the room seemed to exchange glances at his statement, as if they were deciding what information he did and didn’t get to know. A pit of dread formed in his stomach at that, and he realized, for the first time, he was dealing with something much more serious than he originally thought.

“Let me give you more pain meds and then we can talk, okay?” Dr. Cho said, prepping a syringe to be injected into his IV.

“No! Wait! They’ll knock me out!” He said, hiding his IV-clad hand under the blankets. Like a child. “Just tell me! Please.”

May sighed. “Peter—”

“No, May! I deserve to know!” He interrupted. Why wouldn’t they tell him? “I’ll let her give me the meds right after. I promise.”

Mr. Stark looked at Dr. Cho. “We better just tell him.”

“Alright.” She conceded, setting the syringe down on the bedside table. Then turning back to Peter, she said, “Peter, you hurt yourself very badly. I need you to understand you fell from a height that would have killed anyone else instantly. In fact, you came out of that with surprisingly fewer injuries than we would have suspected for even you. But its going to take you a long time to heal regardless.”

“How long?” Peter croaked, not sure he really wanted answers now.

“You broke five bones.” Dr. Cho continued, ignoring his question. “Three of those were compound fractures. Do you know what that means?”

Peter nodded, a hazy memory of torn skin and protruding bone coming to the forefront of his mind.

“We had to preform major, invasive surgery on four of those bones, inserting pins and rods into your legs to help them heal. That’s why you are in so much pain.”

“How long?” Peter repeated, wanting to get the worst of it over with.

“Three months.” Dr. Cho said bluntly. “We suspect it will take around three months for you to be able to walk without assistance and fully heal.”

“Three… three months?! That’s my whole summer!” Peter blurted out, not caring that he sounded whiny even to his own ears.

“You bet it is, kid. You make dumb decisions; you pay for them.” Mr. Stark said, sounding slightly annoyed with his outburst.

His aunt glared at the man. “Tony, not now.”

“Peter, someone without your abilities would take, on average, eight to twelve months to heal from these injuries.” Dr. Cho continued. “You are lucky.”

He certainly didn’t feel lucky. In fact, he felt extremely unlucky. And stupid. The stupidest he’d felt in a long time. Perhaps the stupidest he’d ever felt. In his whole life. 

“Just give me the meds.” Peter said sullenly.

Because if he was out of it, he wouldn’t have to think about what he’d done.

\--

Peter had been in the hospital for a few days now and he was already sick of it. After the initial exhaustion of the first day or so wore off, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep even with the pain meds and the dozen or so pillows tucked around him to make him more comfortable. Because he couldn’t turn on his side and curl his legs into his chest. He’d never been able to fall asleep on his back before, and the awkward way his legs were elevated on mounds of pillows certainly didn’t help him get used to it now.

The waves of nausea that came and went weren’t helping either, causing him to splutter and dry heave at the most inopportune times. A throbbing pain made its home in his lower back. He was told it was normal, because of the lack of movement and the prolonged stay in bed. But it still made him upset. Just one more problem to add to a growing list.

Needless to say, Peter wasn’t having a good time. At all. And on top of all that, he had been mortified to learn they had given him a catheter, because he wasn’t allowed to put any weight on his legs until the physical therapist came and assessed his condition.

Ugh. Physical therapy. From what he was told, it was going to be extremely painful. He wasn’t looking forward to it. It was a three-month reminder of how stupid he was. And from the way his mistakes had been dominating his thoughts, he didn’t think he really needed daily physical reminders too.

He still hadn’t been lectured for his actions, but he had the foreboding sense that it was just around the corner. He was feeling a little bit more coherent today, so he knew May and Mr. Stark would jump on the opportunity.

Both of them had been in and out of his room, comforting him and keeping him company during his rare moments of coherency, but for some reason, they had both been strangely absent the past few hours, leaving Peter alone with his spiraling thoughts. He wondered if it was some sort of parenting technique. To break him in for the tongue lashing he knew was to come.

He honestly wouldn’t put it past either of them.

Peter wasn’t against punishment. There were times he knew, in retrospect, that he’d needed it to help him learn from his mistakes and grow as a person. But wasn’t this already punishment enough? Wasn’t it already enough to know his whole summer had been ruined? That he wouldn’t be walking for three months? That when the city needed him, he wouldn’t be there to help?

_And there it was._ The thing that was bothering him more than anything else.

The increase in crime would be his fault and his fault alone. It wasn’t like he’d gotten hurt fighting a criminal or taking down a gang leader. He’d gotten hurt because he was impatient and selfish and entirely too thoughtless for his own good. And now people were going to suffer for his shortcomings.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Peter rubbed his face in his hands and let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he could get fully worked up. _Come on, Parker. Pull yourself together. _

But was there really a point in calming down right now? He could feel the tenseness in the air of the tower medbay, and somehow, he just knew May and Mr. Stark were on their way to lecture him right now.

It wasn’t long after his last thought that both of them burst through his hospital room door. May looked grumpier than usual and, well, Mr. Stark looked positively furious. It reminded Peter, all too vividly, of the Staten Island Ferry incident last fall.

The tenseness in the air was thick and oppressive. No one spoke. Mr. Stark was staring at him with an intense gaze that made him more than a little uncomfortable, causing him to shift minutely on the bed and lower his eyes to the lunch tray before him.

Deciding he needed to break the oppressive silence, Peter smiled sheepishly, shoulders coming up around his ears as he grabbed his half-eaten cup of jello from the tray. “Jello?” He asked, holding the cup out to his mentor.

Mr. Stark was fuming. Peter could tell he was about to lose it, and suddenly, he wondered if offering his cup of jello was a bad idea. “Peter Benjamin Parker—”

“Its cherry.” Peter said, sinking further into the bed and wondering why he decided cutting the man off was a good idea. “It tastes really good.”

_Ugh. Why was he so awkward in situations like this? _

“Parker, I swear to—”

“Tony!” May chastised, cutting him off before he could do any more damage. “I know you’re upset, but we talked about this!”

And whatever they had talked about caused his mentor to deflate considerably, seeming to acquiesce to the woman in front of him. In that moment, Peter had never been more sure that his aunt held all the cards in their parenting duo.

“Right, right.” Mr. Stark said, folding his arms in front of him and plopping down in one of the bedside chairs, still looking as if he was about five seconds from losing it.

“Peter.” May said, coming to sit on his other side. “Tony and I had a long conversation about your actions, and we need to talk to you about the consequences.”

Peter nodded. This was it. He was probably going to get grounded for a year or something. After all, Mr. Stark had made it very clear that his actions scared the hell out of him.

And he hadn’t been thinking much about how May felt, but it had to have scared her too. She was just better at hiding it.

“You have to understand, Peter. We would ground you, but it turns out you have already grounded yourself.” May said, placing a hand overtop of his.

_What?_ He wasn’t getting any extra punishments? Yeah, he effectively grounded himself for three months, May was right, but he honestly thought he would get in more trouble than this.

“You’re not gonna ground me for like, a whole year or something?” He blurted out suddenly.

And to Peter’s surprise, Mr. Stark chuckled. “What, kid? Do you _want_ to be grounded for a year? Because we can totally do that. It would probably be beneficial to both your aunt’s and my mental health.”

“What?! No, no no no no. Oh, no. I just… I thought I would get a bigger punishment than this.” He said sheepishly, gesturing to his propped-up legs.

“Peter, what’s the first thing that happens when you’re grounded?” His aunt asked, eyes looking at him with both intensity and pity.

“You take away the suit. No Spider-Man.”

May nodded. “Exactly. Now, as I said, you’ve grounded yourself. You won’t be going out as Spider-Man for three months. And those three months are your entire summer. Both Tony and I think that’s quite enough. In fact, I’d say it’s a little harsh for what you did. Your actions constitute a one-month punishment in my opinion.”

“But unless you’re hiding some insane healing abilities we don’t know about, we can’t shorten the punishment length, kid. Sorry.” Mr. Stark added, not sounding terribly sorry and still looking pretty on edge. Peter couldn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Okay.” Peter said, finally understanding their logic. “Thanks for not making it longer.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” May said, smiling and squeezing his hand.

Maybe things would turn out okay after all.

\--

_“Wherever. These are your trees, so you put them where you want them. And every painting will be different. Every one.” _

“Knock-knock.” A voice from the doorway said, tearing Peter’s attention away from the soothing voice of Bob Ross.

He’d been watching the_ Joy of Painting_ almost religiously the past few days. The show was a good form of relaxation when he was doped up on pain meds and couldn’t think straight. In fact, it had become his go-to hospital stay activity since he could do little else while cooped up in bed.

And after scrambling for the remote to pause the show, Peter looked at the person standing in the doorway for the first time. It was a woman. And she wasn’t one he’d seen in the tower medbay before. Instead of wearing the turquoise scrubs that all nurses around here wore, she was dressed in business casual. Somehow Peter knew she was the physical therapist. 

“Um… hi.” He said, smiling and waving; cringing at how awkward he was.

“Hello, Peter.” The dark-haired woman said, coming to his bedside and holding a hand out for him to shake. “I’m Katie, your physical therapist.”

He was right. After almost a week of being confined to his hospital bed with little movement, the torture sessions were about to begin. And if he was being honest, he was kind of looking forward to being able to move, even if it was painful. Because at this point, every muscle in his body was screaming for different positions and increased blood flow.

“Nice to meet you.” He replied, shaking her hand and suddenly feeling self-conscious about his ragged appearance.

He supposed she dealt with patients clad in hospital gowns and greasy, unkempt hair every day, but no matter of reason could make him feel better. He was gross. It was one thing for May and Tony to see him this way, but when it was someone he hadn’t met before, he was instantly reminded he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a week.

He was past the drug-induced stage of not caring he was at when he met Dr. Cho. He supposed that was a sign of progress, but it didn’t stop him from tucking his hospital gown tighter around himself and wondering why they didn’t let him wear scrubs or something.

So much for his dignity.

Katie positioned herself in one of the chairs by his bed and pulled a manila folder out of her bag, rummaging through her papers for a moment before looking back up at him.

“Alright, Peter.” She said, tucking a dark ringlet behind her ear. “We’ll begin the exercises in a moment, but I’ll be honest with you, we’re going to have to modify some of the things we usually have femur fracture patients do.”

“Why?” Peter asked, hoping the worry wasn’t evident in his voice. After all, this woman had just arrived and was already telling him they were going to have to change things.

“We usually have someone with a femur fracture walking with assistance a few days after surgery, but you can’t put any weight on your right leg because of the ankle and lower leg injuries.” She said, gesturing to the red and blue striped cast encasing the lower limb. “The good news is we usually take PT a little slower for patients with compound fractures anyway.”

Peter didn’t really understand how any of that was good news, but figured Katie was trying to put a positive spin on things. He wondered what she thought of his plethora of injuries and if she knew he was Spider-Man. He’d have to ask Mr. Stark.

“Okay.” Peter said, not knowing how else to respond.

“So, we are going to start small.” Katie said, removing the pillows from under his legs to lay them flat on the bed. “Today, all I want you to do is lift each leg a couple inches off the mattress while keeping your knees straight. Hold it for a couple of seconds, and then gently lower it. Do you think you can do that?”

Peter didn’t say anything for a moment. _This_ was how physical therapy was starting? He honestly thought he would be doing something bigger than this. He wanted to get out of bed, not do exercises in it!

Taking a deep breath, he said, “um… okay. I mean, yeah, I can do it.”

“Great!” Katie replied, smiling. “You got this. Try the left leg first, okay?”

Peter nodded and began to slowly lift his left leg off the mattress. It hurt. Really bad. A searing pain not just in the bone of his thigh, but in the muscles and tissue too. He had no idea such a tiny amount of movement would hurt so incredibly.

After holding it steady for a few seconds, he couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was too much. His leg was shaking with the exertion, and his jaw and hands were clenched. As he lowered his leg back down, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“That was so good! You are doing amazing already!” Katie cooed, smiling and putting her hand up for a high-five.

Peter never felt more humiliated in his life. That certainly wasn’t high-five worthy, all he did was lift his leg up a few inches. It wouldn’t have been something he would even think about before deciding web-slinging in the wind was a good idea, let alone celebrate. And if he was being honest, Katie was already beginning to get on his nerves. She was too happy about this. This _sucked._ It hurt like hell and he wished she would acknowledge that. 

It was going to be a long summer.

\--

Peter was exhausted. He hadn’t expected physical therapy to tire him out as much as it did and was more than a little humiliated that his measly amount of movement required extra pain medication once they were done.

Katie worked him hard, making him drill the exercise about twenty times on the left leg. She always made sure to check his pain levels, and continuously reminded him the amount of pain he was feeling was normal. He didn’t understand how that was possible but decided not to question someone who went to school for this kind of thing.

But when it came to the right leg, he felt even worse. The pain on that side was much more intense, and he failed at lifting it even an inch, the weight of the heavy cast on his lower leg making it almost impossible to engage his recently torn quad muscles. And for the first time, he realized how serious compound fractures were. It wasn’t just a broken bone, it was torn muscle and tissue as well, both of which didn’t feel good, to say the least.

It wasn’t until physical therapy that Peter fully realized how badly he screwed himself up.

In the end, Katie had to lift his right leg for him, constantly asking his pain levels and gently manipulating the limb as best she could. And even though it hurt more than the left leg, the woman was adamant he do it twenty times as well.

Not even his puppy dog glare—as May called it—could save him from that torture.

The pain meds the nurse brought in after the session were staring to take effect, and Peter felt himself begin to drift off. The medication made him sleepy, but he could still feel a dull pain pulsing in his legs. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if the bed was anything like the ones at Presbyterian-Queens he’d become accustomed to after asthma scares as a kid. But luckily, Mr. Stark was a billionaire. He only accepted the best of the best, and Peter had never been more grateful for a comfortable mattress in his life.

But suddenly, just as he was about to slip into a drug-induced dream land, he heard a commotion outside his hospital room.

“No fixing the elevator? Fine. I’ll just buy the damn building!” Mr. Stark said, voice clearly agitated.

“Come on, Tony! You know we don’t want that!” That was May’s voice. She didn’t sound too happy either.

“Well, I do! It would give me peace of mind, you know? I could put cameras everywhere, hire a doorman from my own security team, hell, even Happy could do it. You wouldn’t have to deal with a shitty landlord ever again. I could—”

“So this is about you, then?” His aunt interrupted. “What about what I want? We’re the ones that live there!”

“What about what Peter wants?” Mr. Stark asked.

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say because May exploded. “What Peter wants?! Are you for real, Tony?! Are you that naïve? He’s a teenager! I’m not allowing him to make this decision!”

That was the moment Peter had the distinct feeling he wasn’t supposed to overhear this conversation. But he couldn’t help it, they were yelling at each other right outside his door. And even if they took their yelling match further down the hall, his super hearing would have picked it up anyway. 

In a weird way, he kind of liked listening to them bicker. It reminded him of simpler times. Of when Ben was still alive, and he would overhear him and May arguing about his schooling or the kids that bullied him. The apartment had thin walls, and even when they whispered, if he listened closely, he could hear them talking about him in the bedroom next door.

He wasn’t dumb. He knew the fragile relationship between Mr. Stark and May was nothing like the one between her and Ben. But it was nice to have someone who understood him in his corner, and he supposed it was good for May too. He knew she’d been struggling immensely after Ben’s death, even though she tried to hide it, even though she tried to be strong for him. But, if Ben had been there, he would have never been able to hide Spider-Man from her for as long as he did. She was constantly observant and becoming a widow was the only thing distracting her.

He knew it was good for her to have someone helping her out in the way only adults could.

As his train of thought came to an end, he realized May and Mr. Stark had moved their conversation elsewhere. Maybe they realized he would be able to overhear them. Or maybe…

“Hey, FRIDAY? Did you snitch on me?” Peter asked the ceiling.

“Boss inquired as to if you were awake and upon my confirmation, he and Mrs. Parker moved their conversation to boss’ penthouse.”

“Alright. Thanks FRIDAY.” Peter said, chuckling at their parenting screw-up.

Regardless, he knew whatever they were discussing would be brought to him eventually.

\--

“How’s PT going, kid?” Mr. Stark said as he entered the room, a Stark Pad in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Um.” Peter said, shifting minutely in bed. “Okay, I guess. It hurts a lot, but at least I got to get in the wheelchair and brush my teeth today.”

“Congratulations.” Mr. Stark said, patting him on the shoulder. “I heard you finally got the catheter out too, huh? That’s definitely a cause for celebration.”

Peter turned beet red, and suddenly the impromptu visit by his mentor wasn’t fun anymore. He just felt embarrassed and annoyed. He was never going to live this down, was he?

“Mr. Stark!” He whined “Don’t you have, like, important stuff to be doing?”

The man laughed, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he was feeling. “I came here to talk to you, kid. This is my important stuff.”

“Just don’t bring up the catheter again.” Peter mumbled, looking into his lap and feeling his cheeks heat up even more than they already were.

“Come on, kid! You gotta learn to laugh at yourself. You gotta admit, this whole situation is pretty funny.”

Peter was fuming. And before he knew it, he was unleashing everything he had on the man in front of him. “Maybe to you, but it isn’t to me, okay?! I’m stuck like this for three months! _Three whole months!_ It’s my whole damn summer! I don’t get to do any of the things I wanted to now! I’m stuck doing physical therapy and feeling like a fucking idiot the whole time!”

The room went silent. Clearly, his outburst surprised Mr. Stark. The look on the man’s face was one of complete shock and Peter realized the only other time he’d raised his voice in front of him was after the ferry fiasco. But Peter couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of holding it in. He was sick of trying to pretend any of this was okay. He’d just finished a brutal physical therapy session an hour ago, and Mr. Stark thought waltzing in here and making fun of the damn catheter was a good idea.

“Whoa. Okay, Pete. I wont mess with you anymore.” The man acquiesced, holding his arms up in surrender. And then, after a moment, “I’m actually here to talk to you about getting released.”

“From the hospital?” Peter practically squeaked, excitement in his voice.

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “Of course. Where else would you need to be released from? Jail?”

Peter laughed. “C’mon man, Spider-Man puts people in jail. What good would it do if I went there myself?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it would teach you a little humility.”

“You’re one to talk.” Peter playfully scoffed.

“Hey! You listen here, young man!” Mr. Stark said, wagging a finger at him but unable to keep the faux-serious expression on his face, smile poking through.

And with that, the previous tension that filled the room after Peter’s outburst was officially broken, giving them the ability to discuss important things.

“I’m serious, kid.” His mentor said after they both finished laughing. “I talked to Helen this morning, and she said she feels comfortable releasing you either tomorrow or the day after that. She talked with your physical therapist and they both agree you’ve made enough progress to do some things on your own. Do you agree?”

Peter thought for a moment. It had only been two days since he started learning how to transfer himself from the bed to the wheelchair, but he’d been working hard at it. Being completely sick of the hospital bed gave him a lot of motivation to work through the pain. And if they thought he was ready; he wasn’t going to complain. He wanted out of here so, so bad.

“Yeah, I agree. I’ve been wanting to get out of here for _days_.”

“I thought so.” Mr. Stark nodded. “Now, I hope you don’t mind, but your aunt and I have discussed this, and you’ll be staying here at the tower until you’ve recovered.”

“Okay.” Peter said. “But… why?”

The tower was awesome, and he didn’t mind staying at all, but he had to wonder where the sudden generosity came from. The only other time Mr. Stark had offered to let him stay was when he’d told him he had a room after his encounter with the Vulture, and besides, that wasn’t _real._ It was a test.

“Wait.” Peter said, a conversation from a few days ago coming to his mind. “This is because of the elevator, isn’t it?”

Mr. Stark seemed to visibly deflate at his statement. “Yeah, kid. I tried to get Aunt Hottie to let me fix it, but she’s even more stubborn than I realized.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, May’s pretty stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

“And besides, you’d have to come here nearly every day for PT. This way, you’ll only have to take the_ elevator_ down a few floors instead of coming all the way across town.”

Peter didn’t miss the blatant emphasis the man put on the word ‘elevator’ and honestly, it made him laugh.

“I’ve put Pep in charge of moving all your furniture from the Avengers floor up to the penthouse’s spare bedroom. You may be able to go to the bathroom by yourself now, but you’re still going to need our help.” Mr. Stark continued.

After getting over his embarrassment that Mr. Stark brought up the bathroom topic _again,_ the full weight of what he’d just said sunk in.

“Hold on. That wasn’t a test?!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, man?!”

His mentor visibly cringed. “Yeah, about that…. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to offer _a teenager_ a position on the Avengers. Especially one that can’t keep himself out of trouble even when there’s no trouble to be found.” The man said, gesturing to his messed-up legs.

“Aw, c’mon, Mr. Stark. Take that back!”

“No way, kid. You were an idiot, and I’m gonna use every opportunity I can to make you remember that. We’re not doing this again. You hear me?”

Peter groaned.

How was he going to survive Mr. Stark’s teasing all summer? Suddenly, going home and sleeping in his own bed didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written for the prompt "platonic co-parenting" for Found Family Bingo.

Ugh. Peter was so _bored!_ He was tired of the_ Joy of Painting,_ and he already watched every single episode of the_ Great British Baking Show._ He couldn’t take this anymore! The city needed him!

It had been about a month since the accident, and the excitement of staying at the tower had worn off the moment he was informed he wouldn’t be allowed to work in the lab until he could walk on his own. And his cast was itchy. Super itchy. It hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind when he was in the medbay, the pain meds keeping him out of it enough to not care about a stupid itch, but now that he’d made strides in his recovery, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He’d thought more than once about sticking a pencil down it, but he knew it would get stuck in there and then Mr. Stark and May would be mad at him. Because he knew for a fact FRIDAY would tell on him, and he didn’t want that.

But he was bored! The stupid itch was the only thing he could think about. He needed something to distract him.

Why was he such a dumbass? Why did he think it was a good idea to go out in that wind? Because now he was stuck inside, getting acquainted with every damn show on Netflix, instead of helping the city.

Ugh. The city. He’d been avoiding that topic for a while now, pushing it to the back of his mind every time his brain decided to bring it up. Because every time he thought about it, he felt so guilty. But he needed to do something about it. The city needed Spider-Man, and he was honestly curious about how they were fairing without him.

His aunt lectured him on several occasions about looking at the news when he was feeling down, but Peter didn’t think he could resist it any longer. He just had to know what the city was saying about him. He had to know if there had been an increase in crime. He had to know what kind of lies the _Daily Bugle_ cooked up in his absence.

And besides, he was _bored! _

Getting out his phone wasn’t the easiest task when he couldn’t walk, but he was determined. Usually, he would have it on him at all times, but he’d been avoiding texts from Ned and MJ. Truth was, he was really embarrassed of his ridiculous fall, and it caused him to avoid texting his friends. He knew MJ would laugh at him and Ned would try his best to be nice, but probably wouldn’t be able to hold it in either.

It probably wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but in his defense, he was dealing with a lot right now.

The bedroom Ms. Potts set up for him in the penthouse was spacious enough for the wheelchair to be used easily. She had also equipped the room and en suite bathroom with handrails to help him when needed. And Peter was so thankful for how thoughtful she had been. If he’d gone home to recover, he knew their apartment would have been a nightmare to navigate.

And while May and Mr. Stark had argued about the elevator, he knew his aunt was ultimately right to want him to recover here.

After transferring himself from the recliner in front of the TV to his wheelchair, he made his way to the other side of the room, where the desk, large, floor-length windows and his charging phone were located. He’d already spent way too much time staring out those windows, looking across the city and at the tiny, people-shaped dots milling about on the ground below. Spending long stretches of time looking out windows was the epitome of boredom in Peter’s estimation. At least, by reading news articles he was learning something.

Even if that something was how much of a failure he was.

He let out a long sigh. Finally, he reached the other side of the room. One thing his disastrous fall quickly taught him was that being in a wheelchair sucked big time. He certainly gained much more sympathy for people who had to live their entire lives that way. Once he was able to go back out as Spider-Man, he would have to keep his eyes peeled for people in wheelchairs. They would certainly appreciate his help.

Pulling his phone off the desk and turning it on, he was immediately greeted with two messages from MJ and seventeen from Ned. Ugh. He was really going to have to stop avoiding them and answer soon.

But right now, he was on a mission. Opening the search bar and typing _Spider-Man_—with the hyphen of course, it annoyed him when people forgot it—he was greeted with a wall of news articles. Most of them were worriedly speculating what happened to him, with an outlandish claim by someone who said they’d seen him get attacked, beaten and left within an inch of his life by the Manfredi Mob. Peter had to laugh at that one. The Manfredi’s were a thorn in his side, sure, but there was no way in hell they could injure him that badly.

Yet, while some people were content to claim he was injured heroically, others took the accusatory approach. There were quite a few articles berating him for hiding out while the city was suffering, including an account from a little girl who claimed that if Spider-Man had been there, her dog would’ve been saved from their house fire.

Peter almost closed out the app and threw his phone across the room after reading that. He felt like the worst person in the world. He failed a little girl that believed in him, and now, she didn’t have her dog or her home. His only solace was that neither she nor her family had been harmed. He didn’t know if he would be able to live with himself if a child had been left an orphan because of him. After all, he knew all too well what that felt like. 

Letting out a shaky, uneven sigh, he realized May was probably right. He probably shouldn’t be looking at Spider-Man news when he felt like this. But another part of him thought he deserved it. He deserved to punish himself because he was selfish and impatient and a terrible hero. What kind of person was he to care more about his selfish desires than saving a little girl’s dog? It wasn’t lost on him that that situation could have been much worse, too. He was lucky it wasn’t a person that died. 

_Oh, God. What if someone had died? _

Peter felt himself beginning to panic. His hands were shaking, and his heart began to beat faster. He couldn’t have a panic attack right now. He just couldn’t. Mr. Stark would be up to take him to physical therapy in just ten minutes. He had to calm himself down.

But what if he’d inadvertently killed a person? Spider-Man didn’t kill. But what if his reckless actions made it so? And… and… and… what if he was responsible for multiple deaths? What if multiple people died during his month-long absence? And if they had… it would be his fault.

He didn’t want to know, but he needed to know. He had to know just how badly he screwed up.

But just as he was about to google _recent deaths in Queens,_ he was interrupted by a voice at his bedroom door. 

“Pete? You ready, kid?” Mr. Stark asked, poking his head in the door. “What’s wrong?” 

“What?” Peter said, dropping his phone into his lap. “Oh. Um. Nothing’s wrong. I’m totally fine. Yeah, um, everything’s good.” He stuttered, trying to get his composure together. Trying to stop hyperventilating.

Mr. Stark looked skeptical, raising an eyebrow and coming into the room, sitting down in the desk chair across from him. “You want to tell me the truth? I can see that look on your face, kid. Something is wrong.”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. “Do I have to?”

“No, you don’t have to, but you would feel better if you did.” Mr. Stark said, putting a hand on his knee and looking him straight in the eye. “Believe me, kid, I have experience holding things in. And let me tell you, it never does any good.”

“Okay.” Peter said, exhaling sharply. “I want to help the city, and I feel bad for not being there for everyone.” After rubbing his face in his hands, thinking about how to continue, he said, “Mr. Stark, do you ever look up news articles about yourself?”

His mentor inhaled sharply. “I do. But it almost never makes me feel any better about myself. Is that what you were doing?”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “I’m going crazy… cooped up in here. So, I got curious about how the city was doing… without me.”

“And you read things that painted Spider-Man in a bad light. Things that made you upset.”

“No. Well, yeah, but it wasn’t that.” Peter said, noticing his hands were shaking again, clenching them around his phone to stop the trembling. “There was a little girl, Mr. Stark. Her dog died in a house fire. She told the reporters if I’d been there, her dog wouldn’t have died. But… but then that got me thinking. If a dog died because of me, how many… how many people died?” He looked down into his lap after that, unable to look his mentor in the eye. If he did, he didn’t think he would be able to hold it together at all.

“Kid. Peter. Look at me.” Mr. Stark commanded, a strange level of conviction in his voice. One that Peter hadn’t ever heard before.

And when he looked up, he knew the man was serious. All their jokes and banter pushed to the side for important conversations and life lessons.

“Nobody died because of you, okay? You got that?” He continued. “I hate to break it to you kid, but even when you go out patrolling every day, there are still deaths. People still die. You can’t save everyone. That isn’t how the world works.”

“Yeah, but that’s different.” Peter countered.

“How is it different?” Mr. Stark asked, skeptical. 

Peter looked out the window. Staring unseeingly at the New York skyline. “When I’m patrolling, I’m still out there, you know? I’m still doing my part. I’m still _saving_ people that need help. But I made a huge mistake and now the city is without me for three months.” He looked back at his mentor. “Three whole months where I can’t help anyone.”

“Peter, I’m glad you understand you made a mistake, but you can’t continue blaming yourself for things you have no control over.”

“But I _did_ have control over this!” Peter exclaimed, agitated. “Why don’t you understand?! I was the one who made the stupid-ass decision to go out in that weather! I was the one who got hurt for a dumb fucking reason, okay?!”

An awkward pause hung in the air for a moment after that.

Peter sighed, all his previous anger and frustration deflating. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’ve just… I’ve been so upset about this for a month now. But I’ve been trying to ignore it. I’ve been trying _so hard._” His voice broke, the tears he’d been holding in finally streaming down his face. “But I can’t stop thinking everything is my fault.”

“You’ve got a serious guilt-complex, kid.” Mr. Stark said after a long moment. “It reminds me a little of someone I know.”

Peter let out a wet chuckle.

“Seriously, Pete. You can’t be so hard on yourself. Its impossible to live life that way.”

“Well, then what should I do?” Peter asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“The first and most important thing is to stop googling yourself. It doesn’t do any good. I know. I’ve tried it. And if you are tempted to keep doing it, I can have FRIDAY alert me every time you do.” The man said. “Besides, I’m well aware May doesn’t want you looking yourself up. And as the person responsible for your well-being while staying here, I have to agree with her. God knows what would happen if I didn’t.”

Peter nodded in agreement. After all, if he learned anything in the past twenty minutes, it was that looking himself up didn’t do anything but bring him perilously close to a full-blown panic attack.

“Second, you need to tell either me or May when you are feeling like this. The guilty feeling. Okay? We can help you, but only if you let us.”

“Okay.” Peter conceded.

“You promise?” Mr. Stark asked.

“I promise.”

And after a short beat of silence, Mr. Stark nodded, looking at his watch. “Let’s go, kid. Katie’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Ugh.” Peter said, slouching down in his wheelchair. “I don’t want to go.” He’d forgotten about physical therapy during their slightly intense conversation.

Mr. Stark patted his shoulder as he began pushing him out of the room. “I know you don’t, kid. But try and remember it’s _helping_ you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. It just hurts.” Peter mumbled.

“Was that the sound of complaining I heard?” His mentor asked, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Shut up, man.” Peter replied, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have every right to complain. I broke five bones! Five! And I tore, like, a whole bunch of muscles.”

“Alright, spider-kid. You win this round.” 

\--

The next morning, Tony was peacefully working in his office when May burst in, plopping a copy of that morning’s Daily Bugle on his desk. She looked breathless and worried. Hair askew and glasses crooked. And after staring at her for a moment, trying to take in her appearance and demeanor, Tony found his gaze wandering to the paper in front of him.

_Spider-Man Disappears from Public Eye: the masked menace has vanished, Queens observer notes_

Looking back up from the ridiculous headline to the woman in front of him, Tony noticed she had that I’m-angry-and-you-better-do-something-about-it look on her face. That look never failed to terrify him. And just as he opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, May beat him to it.

“You better fix this, Tony!”

“You don’t want me to fix the damn elevator, but you’re worried about _this_?” Tony asked, incredulous.

“Yes, I’m worried about this!” May exclaimed. “I don’t want Peter finding this article and blaming himself. I know he’s already going stir-crazy being cooped up in here.”

Tony closed his eyes, sighing. Usually May was the more rational one among the two of them. Usually she had to reign him in, not the other way around. He honestly had no idea what had gotten into her, and he didn’t particularly want to find out.

“Look, May. Peter is fully aware the Bugle is a tabloid. They’ve been printing shit about Spider-Man for months now. I don’t think seeing this article is going to make him feel any worse than he already is.”

_And I talked to him about this just yesterday._ He thought, not wanting May to worry about Peter’s breakdown.

There was a pause for a moment after that. And when it went on for too long, Tony looked back at May to find tears pooling in her eyes.

“I just feel bad for him.” She finally said, voice shaking and eyes watering. “He’s been through so much already, and this is just one more thing. And… and I know my Peter. I know he blames himself even when there’s no reason to.”

It was at that moment that Tony realized how hard the past month had been for her. She had been holding it together up until this point. She had kept her wits about her and tried to be strong for Peter. But eventually every dam breaks and every bridge collapses. And silently, this crazy whirlwind of events had been taking its toll on her, and somehow, in all the commotion, Tony hadn’t noticed.

“I feel bad for him too.” Tony sighed. “But he was reckless. And now he has to live with the consequences of his actions. We can’t coddle him, or he won’t get it through that teenage brain of his that what he did was incredibly stupid and wrong.”

May sniffled, a little smile poking through her tears. “When did you become so good at parenting, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It was probably when you stormed over here after Peter’s homecoming fiasco and gave me a typed list of things I needed to do if I wanted to stay in Peter’s life.” He said with a wry smile.

May let out a wet chuckle. “I think you’ve been watching me the whole time, Stark. Even if you won’t admit it.”

“Maybe so.”

\--

After their conversation, May went up to the penthouse to spend some time with Peter while Tony finished cataloging the mounds of R&D paperwork he’d been sifting through. He was glad the kid was spending time with his aunt. After all, he knew they had been missing not seeing each other every day over the past month.

At that thought, he began to turn the previous conversation with the woman over in his mind. May was right, after all. He _had_ been observing her parenting for far longer than he would care to admit. It was the little things that he noticed. The ways in which May and Peter would talk about each other. The attention to detail, the level of care and concern, the way they knew everything about each other.

These things were foreign to Tony. His father had never cared for him in this way, and over the years, he’d come to wonder if any of it was love at all. And his mother and Jarvis… well, he knew they had at least loved him, but it wasn’t ever like this. It was never the _I’ll go to the ends of the earth for my child_ kind of love May had for Peter. 

For a moment he wondered if the kid knew how lucky he was to have someone like that. But then he realized, of course he did. Peter had lost so much already, and he wasn’t even old enough to vote. He was so protective of May. He cherished her so deeply. Tony hadn’t needed to know Peter for long to figure that one out.

The man sighed. He needed to focus and finish his work so he could go up to the penthouse and spend some time with two people that had somehow reached their way in and become part of his crazy, patchwork family.

\--

Tony rubbed his temples as he made his way to the elevator and asked FRIDAY to bring him to the penthouse. Cataloging always took forever. It was the type of work he desperately wanted to hand off to other employees, but it wasn’t like anyone else could do it. He was the head of R&D after all.

When he arrived at his floor, he found May in his kitchen. He skeptically raised an eyebrow at that. The woman couldn’t cook to save her life, and if Tony was being honest, he wondered how Peter even stomached any of her food. Watching as she put together a sandwich, he noted that at least she wasn’t _cooking_ anything. That would only end in disaster.

“Hello, Tony.” She said, looking up from the task at hand. “I’m just making Peter a sandwich. Would you like one?”

Tony shook his head. He didn’t even trust that woman with a sandwich. He would make himself food later. “It’s alright, May.” He politely declined. “How’s the kid doing anyway?”

“Okay.” May said, cutting a tomato. “He’s been sleeping most of the time I’ve been here. I think PT wore him out. He just woke up.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. They’ve been giving him a pain pill after PT, and you know those drugs knock him off his ass.”

May chuckled at that statement. “They really do. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Super kid, super drugs.” He said matter-of-factly.

After changing out of his uncomfortable two-piece suit he wore on days when he worked in the office, and giving Rhodey a call to get updates on the progress of dismantling the Accords, Tony made his way back toward the living room, where Peter was now propped up on the couch, talking to May and eating his sandwich.

“So, what do you want for your birthday, Peter?” She asked as Tony made his way toward them.

Tony had completely forgot about the kid’s birthday. With everything else that had been going on, things like birthdays were the last of his worries. Wasn’t it in August? Wasn’t he going to be sixteen? There was something about Peter Parker being sixteen that made him feel a weird kind of emotion he didn’t know how to define or want to feel. He’d push it to the back of his mind for now. It wasn’t like he wanted to deal with unsolicited emotions anyway.

“Oh. Um… honestly, I just want _all this_ to go away.” Peter said, gesturing to his legs. “Hi, Mr. Stark!” He said as he noticed the man entering the room.

May rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Peter. Something reasonable, please.”

“The big one-six.” Tony said, sinking into the couch and draping an arm across the back, behind Peter’s head. “You want a car? I can get you a Bentley? A Lamborghini?”

“Tony!” May exclaimed, cutting him off. And when he saw the angry look on her face, he knew he’d screwed up.

He cleared his throat. “Or, uh. Maybe something else, Pete.” He told the teen, trying to smile and patting him on the shoulder.

“You know what would be a good birthday gift?” Peter said between bites of his sandwich. “You guys could let me go to science camp with Ned.”

“Not happening.” Tony and May said at the same time.

“Oh, come on!” Peter whined. “I’m so bored! I’ve been stuck in here all summer! And Ned was looking forward to going with me!”

“Peter, you can’t even walk, what makes you think you’ll be able to get around the campgrounds? Huh? Those places aren’t built with people in wheelchairs in mind.” May said, clearly annoyed. After all, they’d both had this conversation with Peter several times already.

He was being extremely persistent, much to Tony’s chagrin.

“But Ned—”

“Ted can either go alone or wait and go with you next year.” Tony said, cutting the kid off. He didn’t want to hear this argument for the fifteenth time. It wasn’t practical for him to go, both he and May had decided that a long time ago.

“Ugh, fine.” Peter said, flopping his arms to his sides and throwing his head back dramatically. “Whatever.”

Tony would be lying if he didn’t admit he’d entertained the idea on more than one occasion. It turned out taking care of an injured and frequently complaining Peter wasn’t as exciting as he thought it would be when he and May first devised the idea of him staying at the tower. So, naturally, shipping him off to camp for a few days to do science activities that would be far too simple for Peter seemed like a nice reprieve.

Of course, he liked having Peter around, but he was a terrible patient. He was going stir-crazy and through his constant complaining, he made sure everyone knew it. The kid was much more pleasant without a plethora of broken bones and his Spider-Man activities to help diffuse all his pent-up teenage energy.

He’d even told Rhodey about his predicament when the man came to visit a few days ago.

_“I’m about this close,” Tony said, holding his thumb and index finger up, only an inch apart, “to having the entire campgrounds reconstructed so Peter can go to his stupid little science thing.” _

_Rhodey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you really that desperate to get him off your hands, Tones? He can’t be that bad when he’s injured. I mean, he’s Peter. And besides, no one’s as bad a patient as you.” _

_“I’m thinking about the children, Rhodes!” Tony said, deciding to completely ignore that last remark. “Peter’s friend, Fred, was looking forward to going with him.”_

_“Tony. You’re trying to pawn off a kid with two broken legs to the state for a few days to do basic science experiments he could do in your lab any day.” Rhodey said, exasperated. “Listen to yourself, man. You sound heartless.”_

And Rhodey was annoyingly right as usual. It was kind of heartless, even if Peter wanted to go. Because he knew his intentions would forever be to get him out of his hair.

\--

Tony and May were sitting on the couch in Bruce’s lab, nursing cups of coffee and discussing the spider-kid. After being told he couldn’t go to science camp as a birthday gift, Peter was hell-bent on pouting his evening away. And after telling the two adults he wanted to watch TV alone, Tony decided to bring May to Bruce’s lab, a place he knew would be unoccupied for a little while and out of Peter’s earshot as well.

“I really do feel bad he can’t go to science camp.” May began, slowly sipping her coffee.

“I don’t.” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. “The little twerp has been hounding me about it for the past two weeks.”

May chuckled. “I’m not surprised. He and Ned made this big plan of all the things they were going to do there. It was really elaborate, Tony. And while I agree Peter is _not_ going, I know Ned is disappointed. I’m pretty sure it was going to be the highlight of his summer.”

Tony took a moment to roll that information around in his mind. It really wasn’t fair to the Ted kid. After all, he didn’t do anything. But he was paying for Peter’s rash actions regardless. And from what Tony had seen of the kid, he seemed like the easily excitable type, the kind that would thrive at a cheesy summer camp.

Suddenly, it was as if a lightbulb went on in his brain. 

“May, I think we should throw a surprise party for Peter.” Tony blurted out.

She looked taken aback at his sudden statement, unsure what to make of it.

“He’s going to be sixteen, right?” He continued. “We need to do something nice, and besides, I’m pretty sure we could make it up to that Ted kid by inviting him to a birthday party at the Avengers Tower.”

May was smiling now. Taking to the idea faster than Tony thought she would. “Tony, I like the idea, I really do, but you have to understand, Ned can’t keep a secret to save his life.” 

“He’s bound to end up coming over here eventually, being Peter’s best friend and all. I’ll just make him sign an NDA. That’ll shut anyone up.”

“I don’t mean about the Avenger’s Tower, Tony. I mean the surprise party. You know, its supposed to be a_ surprise_.” May replied, an amused expression on her face. “And you can’t write up an NDA for a birthday party. That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”

She was right. Although, it would be exactly the Tony Stark thing to do.

“Hummm.” Tony said, brushing a hand across his goatee, deep in thought. “I bet if Iron Man told him to keep a secret, he could do it.”

May laughed outright at that.

“What?” Tony bristled. “I think it could work.”

“Whatever you say, _Iron Man_.” May said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “But if Ned spills the beans, I’m not responsible.”

“Deal.”

\--

There was a soft knock at his bedroom door, followed by the entrance of Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark.

“Hello, Peter.” Dr. Banner smiled. “Are you ready to head down?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. He was super excited. Today was a big day. As long as his x-rays looked good, he would finally be getting his cast off and replacing it with a brace. His desire to itch the encased limb had only increased over the seven weeks he’d been bogged down by the thing, and he couldn’t wait to get it off and scratch his leg like crazy.

“Let’s go, kiddo.” Mr. Stark said, gesturing to the empty wheelchair at his side.

And as Peter painstakingly transferred himself from the recliner to the wheelchair, it dawned on him that this would probably be one of the last times he had to use the thing. A brace meant he would soon be free of the offending piece of equipment, and in some ways, that was even more exciting than itching his leg. He had always been an independent kid, and the dependency on everyone around him that the wheelchair brought was driving him insane. Getting back on his feet would free him of being pushed around everywhere.

Down in the medbay, the x-rays proved to be quick and painless. And much to Dr. Banner’s delight, his fractures were healing nicely. The man showed him and Mr. Stark the pictures, and Peter was surprised at how his legs looked with so many rods and screws in them.

Dr. Banner chuckled. “I showed you your post-op x-rays while you were stuck down here. You don’t remember?”

“No?” Peter said hesitantly, wondering if that was somehow the wrong answer.

Mr. Stark patted his shoulder. “Super-drugs, Bruce. I doubt the kid remembers all that much from his hospital stay.”

_That was true. _He did remember May and Mr. Stark reprimanding him though.

Dr. Banner nodded. “Well, do you have any questions about the images, Peter?”

Peter thought for a moment. “Do I have to get all that stuff taken out of my legs once I’m better?” He asked, not wanting to go through surgery a second time. After all, it completely sucked ass the first go-around.

“Only if they are causing you pain or get infected.” Dr. Banner said. “But I doubt either of those things will happen since you didn’t get any infections post-op, and because you’ve been working hard in physical therapy. Most people go the rest of their lives with internal fixation devices still in place.”

“Okay.” Peter said. It would be kind of weird to know there would always be metal in his legs.

“Any other questions?” Dr. Banner asked.

And when Peter said no, the man continued. “I have good news, then. Your x-rays look great. I feel completely confident in removing your cast.”

Peter grinned. _Finally!_

“Congrats, kid!” His mentor said, beaming.

And a saw and plyers later, he was finally free. Peter would never admit it, but he was a little sad he didn’t get to walk around school with a cast signed by _the_ Tony Stark and _the_ Bruce Banner. It would have been nice to rub it in Flash’s face—at least a little bit. But now it was in pieces on the floor.

While Dr. Banner was at the sink on the other side of the room, getting some soap and water to clean his leg, Peter decided he would try and scratch it. But in his haste and euphoria at becoming free from the plaster, he’d forgotten how difficult and painful it was to try and bring his knee to his chest.

After attempting to move his leg upwards much too fast, his vison whited out for a moment and he hissed in pain. And once he got his bearings, he found the concerned face of Mr. Stark at his side.

“Whoa, Pete. Breathe. Forgot about the femur fractures, didn’t you?” The man said, crouched down to Peter’s eye level, eyebrows knitted together in concern. 

“Ughhhh.” He moaned, slowly lowering his leg and rubbing his quad muscle.

“Just try and breathe through it, kid.” Mr. Stark said, rubbing a hand across his back. And Peter could tell he was trying his best to comfort him.

“You aren’t better yet, Peter.” Dr. Banner said, bringing a tub of hot water and a washcloth over. “Getting the cast off is just the first step. You still have at least a month of physical therapy to work through.”

“But my leg is itchy!” Peter snapped. “How am I supposed to itch it when I can barely bend my knee?!”

“We can get you one of those nifty back scratchers, kiddo.” Mr. Stark answered. “The best one. I’m a billionaire, remember?”

“And for right now, I think this will help.” Dr. Banner said, placing the bucket at Peter’s feet and dipping the washcloth in. 

And oh, it felt so good! As the man scrubbed his leg with the soapy, warm washcloth, he sighed in relief. His leg was finally getting clean and the itch was fading away. After seven whole weeks of putting his leg in a plastic bag while he showered, it was nice to finally feel the warm water and soap suds make contact with his skin.

Peter didn’t think he would ever take showers for granted again.

“Be glad you didn’t have to wear that thing the normal amount of time.” Mr. Stark said, watching closely as Dr. Banner worked.

“And how long is that?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow at his mentor.

“Longer than you had it on, that’s for sure.”

“Three to six months, Peter.” Dr. Banner supplied, side-eyeing Mr. Stark. 

Peter shuddered. He couldn’t imagine being trapped in that itchy, hot and confining cast for that long. That sounded horrible. 

Suddenly, seven weeks didn’t seem so bad. He was certainly grateful for his super healing.

“Alright.” Dr. Banner said, dropping the washcloth into the bucket of soapy water and grabbing the brace from behind him. “I’m going to show you how to put this on. You take it off when you shower, but you should leave it on at all other times. Its there to support you while you get your strength back.”

Peter nodded, listening intently.

“Now, when we leave the medbay, I want you in the wheelchair. Katie will show you how to walk properly with it at your PT appointment later today.”

Peter groaned. “I thought I was done with the wheelchair!”

“Come on, kid.” Mr. Stark said, exasperated. “You can last a few more hours.”

“He’s right.” Dr. Banner added. “Think about it. If you walk now, you might further injure yourself and end up spending more time in the wheelchair. You don’t want that, do you?”

Ugh. The adults were right as usual. “No, I don’t want that.”

“I didn’t think so.” Dr. Banner smiled. “Now, let me show you how to put this on.”

\--

When Mr. Stark pushed him down to physical therapy later that day, Peter was surprised to find the room devoid of everything except parallel bars in the corner, his physical therapist Katie, and a _walker._

_Ugh. This is so embarrassing._ Peter thought, feeling his cheeks heat up. Katie was going to make him walk with that thing, and Mr. Stark would laugh. He was calling it right now.

“Good afternoon, Peter. Mr. Stark.” Katie said, pushing the walker toward his position in the wheelchair. “We are going to start with this today. Does that sound like a plan?”

_If humiliating me in front of someone I’m supposed to prove myself to is the plan._ Peter thought.

“Yeah. Um… sure.” He said instead.

“Great!” Katie exclaimed.

And ugh. She was always so chipper. Usually it didn’t annoy him this much, but he’d expected some crutches or something, not a walker. It threw him off guard.

After Katie explained the correct way to stand and how much weight to put on each leg, Mr. Stark spoke up for the first time.

“I didn’t think I’d live to see the day you walked like an old man, Pete.”

Just like he thought. The teasing was beginning. And just as he shot his mentor the most intimidating glare he could muster, the man burst out laughing.

“You gotta work on that glare, kid. That’s the least intimidating thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter whined. “Stop.”

Katie must have sensed the oncoming argument, for she said, “alright, settle down. Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we?”

“Right. Focus.” Peter quickly agreed. He would do anything to get Mr. Stark to stop teasing him, and that included his daily torture sessions.

Bearing weight evenly on both legs, even with the walker, was harder than he expected it to be. After not standing under his own volition for almost two months, his legs shook with the effort. And after about thirty seconds, he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. It was hurting too much.

“That was fantastic!” Katie said as he plopped back down into the wheelchair.

The woman’s overuse of superlatives was always annoying, but today, when he could barely stand, even with the help of a walker of all things, it made him want to punch something.

Because none of this was ‘fantastic.’ It was difficult and painful. It was tedious every single day. Not to mention humiliating. He was Spider-Man. He could stop a bus with his bare hands. It was absolutely degrading to be reduced to a cripple who couldn’t even stand on his own.

And if Peter was being honest, he was completely sick of physical therapy. He just wanted to be better already. Why couldn’t his super healing work even faster?

“Are you ready to try it again?” Katie asked.

“I guess so.” Peter grumbled, not ready in the slightest.

After completing the exercise several more times, Katie left the room to grab some equipment to help him stretch his muscles. Mr. Stark had been quietly observing, like he always did, and Peter hoped he wouldn’t start teasing him again now that Katie was gone.

Instead, what the man said surprised him.

“Why’d you do it, kid?”

“What?” Peter asked, taken aback.

“Why’d you do it? Why did you decide to jump off one of the tallest buildings in the city in those conditions?”

Mr. Stark’s words had a strange sort of weight to them, like he had been thinking deeply about the subject for a long time. There wasn’t any anger or malice there, and there certainly wasn’t any judgement, he just sounded sad. And maybe disappointed.

It was strange, Peter thought. No one had asked him why he’d done it until now. Not even May. He just assumed they understood. He assumed they realized he always had so much pent-up energy he needed to let free.

He supposed he needed to explain himself.

“I don’t know…” Peter began, sighing. “I guess… well…. It seems really stupid now. I just felt so cooped up. The last three weeks of school were really rough, and I hadn’t gone out as Spider-Man at all in that time.” He looked down in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “But I wouldn’t’ve done it if I’d know how cooped up I’d become after.” He said, looking Mr. Stark in the eye, a small, humorless smile gracing his face.

“So…” Mr. Stark said after a long moment, seeming to dance around something bigger. Something uncomfortable. “There wasn’t any other reason? No ulterior motives?”

It took Peter a moment to understand what the man was asking. To read between the lines.

“What?! No, no, no. Of course not!” Peter said, shocked that his mentor would come to that conclusion. Maybe May put him up to this. “It was nothing like that. I promise.”

“And you would tell someone if it was?” Mr. Stark asked, more serious than he’d ever seen the man.

Peter gulped. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take this kind of turn. “I would. But, Mr. Stark, its nothing like that. I promise. I’m not… I would tell someone before it got to that point.”

The man studied him for a moment, looking at him intently. “Okay, kid. I believe you.”

Awkwardness hung in the air until Katie reappeared, her bubbly personality stamping out the weight of the previous conversation. Peter didn’t understand how he could feel such whiplash. One moment he was annoyed and embarrassed by his mentor’s teasing, and the next he was feeling a heaviness in his stomach just thinking anyone could come to that conclusion based on his actions.

And suddenly, Mr. Stark’s teasing didn’t seem like such a bad thing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel that great about this chapter... but it is what it is. *shrugs*  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written for the prompt "birthdays" for Found Family Bingo.

Two weeks had passed since the strange conversation with Mr. Stark in the physical therapy room. And Peter was more than glad the man hadn’t brought it up again. It hadn’t stopped occupying his thoughts though, and he still wondered if the initial idea to have that conversation with him had been May’s idea. Because when she freaked out, she freaked out _hard._ And Peter knew her mind had to be running a million miles an hour in the days and weeks after his accident. He wouldn’t put it past her to come up with something like that.

But he needed to stop thinking about it. Push it to the back of his mind at least. Today was his birthday, and he was supposed to be focusing on walking down the hall with his newly received crutches.

Both May and Mr. Stark told him to take the day off and just relax, but he knew he couldn’t even waste a day. School was starting up again soon, and he didn’t want to be sporting crutches and a nasty limp on the first day. That would definitely be territory for Flash to prey on. Besides, he’d have to come up with some story of how he got hurt, and contrary to popular belief, Peter knew he was a terrible liar.

Walking was still extremely difficult and tiring. He was unsteady on his feet, and the simple task of walking down the hall to the elevator and then down another hall to the physical therapy room was taking him longer than he expected. Katie was probably wondering where he was.

But it wasn’t like it was his fault! Normally, Mr. Stark would take him down in his wheelchair so he could save his energy for the torture sessions, it was about the only time he used the thing these days, preferring to use his crutches to get around the penthouse. But Mr. Stark couldn’t come with him today. He had some emergency business with the company, apparently, and Pepper refused to get him out of it.

Realizing the man couldn’t be at his side for everything, Peter promised he would be fine. He’d been walking every day at his appointments and in the penthouse, after all.

But if this walk was proving one thing, it was that walking around the penthouse, a few steps here and there, was _way_ different than walking down a seemingly never-ending hallway to his appointment.

His legs were beginning to burn. The familiar hum of pain pulsing in time with his heart. His limp becoming more and more pronounced the farther he walked. Why did Mr. Stark have to go to some stupid meeting on his birthday? Yeah, he’d screwed up when he decided to go web-slinging in that weather, but he didn’t think he deserved _this._

Luckily, when he arrived in the physical therapy room, Katie took one look at him and proclaimed they would work on stretches instead.

He was incredibly grateful.

Especially since he knew he would have to walk back.

\--

The stretching actually helped him feel better for once, and as he left his appointment, he realized his legs felt a little looser and more pliable. Katie went easy on him, massaging the sore spots and helping him gently ease his legs into various stretching positions.

But as much as it helped, Peter soon found out none of it was a match for his powerful pain pills. 

And after a few minutes of doing his best to walk normally, Peter felt the familiar ache in his bones return. Sweat was beginning to gather at his hairline and drip down his lower back. The thick scar on his left thigh, courtesy of the compound fracture and subsequent surgery, was beginning to itch.

It didn’t take as long this time, for his legs to begin burning, and he belatedly realized walking back was undoing all the work from his session. He was getting tired already, his energy spent on the initial walk to his appointment.

As he limped to the elevator, slumping against the side of the car as it began to move, he felt a persistent sense of annoyance. It was his birthday! And no one came to help him with physical therapy! Didn’t they realize it pretty much made his appointment pointless? He felt just as horrible as he did when he walked in the door—in fact, he felt _worse._ His legs were killing him and all he wanted to do was down some painkillers, curl up in his bed and go to sleep.

Ugh. This was his fault though. Peter couldn’t deny that. After all, May and Mr. Stark told him to cancel. He had no right to blame his stubbornness on anyone else but himself.

And as the elevator began to slow, signifying his arrival at the penthouse, he gathered himself together, arranging his crutches underneath him and pushing himself off the wall. Even his arms were shaking with exertion now, a sign that he _really_ needed some rest.

But as the doors slid open, he was greeted with a sudden burst of noise and light, startling him and causing him to fall over, crutches clattering to the floor as he instinctually put his arms out to catch himself. 

Sitting on the floor of the open elevator, it took him a few seconds to reorient himself. And after a moment, he realized the cacophony of voices had said ‘surprise’ and ‘happy birthday Peter.’

Apparently, his fall hadn’t been planned though, because when he looked into the faces of the people standing at the elevator entrance, he found shock and concern in their features. More people were in the penthouse than he expected. Besides his aunt and Mr. Stark, Happy, Miss Potts, Colonel Rhodes, Dr. Banner, Ned and MJ were crowded around. Everyone had on a cheap party hat and a few people were holding those ridiculous party horns. The scene would have been comical if his legs didn’t hurt so bad, but instead all he felt was embarrassment that a surprise birthday party scared him enough to knock him off his feet.

“Wh—what are you guys doing here?” He stuttered out, trying to break the tension but only serving to further embarrass himself. 

His words seemed to snap everyone out of the stupor they were in and suddenly Mr. Stark and May were moving forward, crouching down and asking him if he was okay.

“I’m fine.” Peter grit out as his aunt and mentor helped him to his feet, foregoing the crutches and instead opting to help him to the couch themselves. 

The wall of people parted as he limped slowly and clumsily to the awaiting recliner, all eyes staring at him and making the situation way more awkward than it needed to be. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Happy grab his crutches before the elevator doors slid shut and prop them up against the wall.

And as Peter lowered himself into the recliner, hissing at the pain of his protesting quads, he realized his face had turned bright red at some point. This was supposed to be a surprise party, and while he’d definitely been caught off guard about the whole thing, he’d also kind of ruined it. Because now everyone was unduly worried about him instead of having a good time.

Leave it to his Parker Luck to screw up his own birthday party.

May went to grab his pain medication and Mr. Stark to get pillows to prop up his legs, leaving Peter alone in a room with party guests who didn’t know what to say or do. For a moment, everyone just glanced at each other, back and forth, eyes bouncing around, not knowing how to break the tension and put the festivities back on track.

But luckily, Peter’s guy in the chair came to the rescue the way he always did. Syncing his phone to the wireless speaker on the coffee table and turning the music on low, Ned said, “what’s a party without music? Right, dude?”

Peter grinned. “And it’s my playlist too.”

“Of course it is! It’s your birthday!” Ned answered, plopping down in the seat next to him. “How are you feeling, man?” He asked sincerely as MJ sat down beside him, her critical gaze sweeping over Peter.

“Um… I’m okay.” Peter answered awkwardly, staring into his lap.

Seeming to realize things had become strange again, MJ decided to change the subject. “You should’ve seen Ned when we got here.” She began. “He was on cloud-nine. His mouth was open so wide I think a bird could’ve flown into it.”

“Oh, come on, MJ. That’s a total exaggeration!”

“No, it’s not, nerd.” MJ countered. “Just admit you’ve been dying to get into this place for months now.”

And with the familiar bickering of his friends to listen to, Peter realized his birthday party wouldn’t be so bad after all. He hadn’t expected to spend his sixteenth birthday in physical therapy, and he definitely hadn’t expected it to be one where he was immobile, in pain and pumped full of drugs, but he was surrounded by the people he cared most about.

And that was enough.

It would always be enough.

\--

After taking his painkillers and being propped up as comfortably as possible, Peter was feeling sleepy. His aunt must have noticed this, however, because she cheerfully announced to the group that it was time for cake and ice cream.

Mr. Stark came and sat beside him at the announcement, nudging him in the side and saying, “stay awake, kid. If you fall asleep before blowing out your candles, then I’ll have to do it, and believe me, you don’t want that.”

“Why not?” Peter slurred, opening his eyes and squinting at the stupid grin on his mentor’s face.

“Tony hasn’t told you about the time he set fire to his bedspread when trying to blow out his birthday candles?” Colonel Rhodes said with a shit-eating grin on his face, seeming to appear out of nowhere.

“What?!” Peter spluttered. “How is that even possible? Why were you blowing them out in your room?”

Colonel Rhodes laughed while Mr. Stark shot him a betrayed-looking glare. “It was at MIT. It was finals week and we’d been studying like crazy.” The man began. “But I knew we had to celebrate; Tony was turning sixteen. So, I went to the grocery store just off campus, bought a pre-made cake and some candles, and we lit it in our cramped, little dorm room. But it turned out, we hadn’t secured the candles very well, so Tony blew them right off, lighting the bedspread on fire.”

Peter was cackling. “Wow, Mr. Stark, nice going.” He said, mocking the man sitting next to him.

“Why do you always have to tell him the embarrassing stuff about me?” Mr. Stark whined. 

“Oh, come on, Tones, you walked right into that one.” Colonel Rhodes said, a sly smile on his face. 

And just as his mentor opened his mouth to retort, May dimmed the lights. “Alright, everyone! It’s time to sing!”

As the party guests broke into a chorus of happy birthdays, May slowly walked the cake over to his position, sixteen candles burning bright, casting a warm glow over the dim room. This was their tradition, and it had been ever since he went to live with his aunt and uncle.

Ben jokingly called it the birthday procession, saying that it was meant to make him feel special, to have everyone sing to him while the cake was delivered to his lap.

It was his second birthday without the man. But he missed him just the same.

The cake arrived in front of him just as the singing ended, candles flickering and May beaming.

“Make a wish, Pete.” Mr. Stark whispered as a hush went over the room.

Peter thought for a moment. The obvious thing to wish for was for his legs to heal soon. But that didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel good enough. His healing powers guaranteed he would get better; it was just a matter of time.

Thinking for a moment longer, it suddenly came to him.

_I wish for no deaths while I can’t protect the city. _

And he blew out the candles in one momentous swoop.

Everyone clapped and smiled and laughed. It was a joyous occasion.

May had tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe my baby’s sixteen.” She said, voice wobbly as she set the cake on the coffee table and pulled him in for a big hug. “It seems like just yesterday you were four years old.”

Peter blushed, returning the hug, squeezing tight. “I love you, May.” He whispered.

“I love you too, honey.” She replied earnestly.

After a moment, they broke apart, and his aunt went back to business, clapping her hands together and announcing it was time to cut the cake.

Peter looked down at it then, taking it in for the first time. It was a basic rectangle shape, definitely nothing to write home about in that department. But that wasn’t all, it was covered in white frosting and embellished with red piping. The words ‘break a leg’ were written in neat cursive right in the middle, decorations of casts and crutches adorning the sides.

He felt his face turn red again as he laughed. “Who did this?”

“That would be Tony.” May clucked in disapproval.

Peter looked over at his mentor then, grinning widely and going in for a fist bump. “I have to admit this is pretty clever, Mr. Stark.”

The man chuckled, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “I’m glad you like it, kid. Although, I’m a little disappointed. My goal was to embarrass you, not for you to _like_ it.”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah… well, I think I’ve reached my embarrassment limit for the day, falling down in front of everyone and all.”

“Fair enough.”

\--

Cake and ice cream was a simple, but delicious, affair and Peter was pretty sure he scarfed down more of it than anyone else. He was so thoroughly enjoying being surrounded by friends and family, feeling loved and cared for, that he’d completely forgot about gifts.

It didn’t matter anyway. Peter was a simple person. He didn’t need much to be happy.

But May, who seemed to be in charge of the party, hadn’t forgotten, announcing it was time for presents when there were mutual lulls in several of the room’s conversations.

Once May and Mr. Stark began to clear the coffee table and set the pile of gifts upon it, Ned came and sat down next to him, bouncing with excitement.

“Dude!” He said, barely holding himself together. “I just had the coolest conversation with Bruce Banner! And guess what? He’s going to lend me some of his books on gamma radiation. This is the greatest day of my life!”

Peter smiled. “That’s awesome, man!”

Ned’s exuberance never failed to entertain him. He supposed that was one of the reasons they were best friends. He needed someone in his life like that. Someone who could smile through anything and get excited about the little things in life.

And maybe Peter was a little excitable too. Just a little.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” May said, looking around at the room’s inhabitants.

“I will!” Ned said, jumping to his feet and plucking his gift off the table. Placing it on Peter’s lap he added, “I hope you like it, man.”

Peter didn’t waste any time tearing into the wrapping paper. He knew it was going to be Legos, Ned was predictable that way, but what he didn’t expect was for his friend to spend the amount of money this gift had to have cost. It was an eight-hundred-piece Republic starfighter complete with Obi-wan Kenobi, Jango Fett and Boba Fett minifigures. It was detailed and looked incredibly accurate to the starfighters in _Attack of the Clones. _

“Ned… how did you—why did—uh… thanks.” He said, stuttering and surprised.

“Do you not like it?” His friend asked sheepishly.

“What? No, no, no. Of course I like it, Ned! It’s totally awesome!” Peter said, trying to convey how grateful he was. “I just—how did you pay for this, man?”

Ned laughed, looking relieved. “I’ve been saving for months. I knew I had to get you something special for your sixteenth. And it went on sale last week, believe me, I’ve been keeping watch for a sale since I decided that’s what I was gonna get you.”

Peter was touched. He hadn’t expected so much thought, time and money to go into a gift from a fellow teenager. Ned’s family had much more money than he and May did, but his friend’s gifts had never been this elaborate before.

“Thanks, Ned.” Peter said, smiling. He had the best friends in the whole world. 

“I figured we could build it together.” Ned said.

“Of course, dude. I was planning on that.”

Next, he received a hideous, woolen Spider-Man sweater from Colonel Rhodes that was clearly a knock-off. The gift garnered laughs from the group, while the man tentatively explained he didn’t know what to get him, noting that his mentor was of no help.

“It’s okay, Colonel Rhodes. I like it.” Peter said, smiling. “Besides, I’m always cold. It’ll keep me warm.”

Miss Potts gave him a bunch of nerdy t-shirts and some new sneakers. Peter was almost one-hundred percent certain May had something to do with that gift.

Dr. Banner’s gift was super cool. It was a bunch of new lab equipment that would make creating his web-fluid much easier. Peter was honestly a bit surprised Mr. Stark didn’t have this stuff himself.

MJ went next, throwing a slim and neatly wrapped parcel on his lap and saying, “happy birthday, loser.” 

Peter smiled. And if he was blushing a little bit, no one needed to know.

After tearing off the wrapping paper, Peter stared down at the gift in his hands. Maybe it was because he was tired, or maybe it was because he had pain meds coursing through his system, but he didn’t get it.

“What is it, kid?” Mr. Stark said after a moment.

“It’s a… um… it’s a physics textbook.” He said, holding it up for everyone to see.

Mr. Stark rolling on the floor, laughing his guts out, was not what he expected to happen.

Peter was so confused. Why was this funny? “MJ… I…” He began, at a total loss for words.

“Read the title.” She said, gesturing to the book with a nod of her head.

_Physics I for Dummies _

“But…” Peter began. He had so many questions. He excelled at physics. It was one of his best subjects. He certainly didn’t need this book and MJ knew it.

MJ rolled her eyes so hard he thought she might pass out. “It’s not funny if I have to explain the joke, dork.”

“Joke?” Peter squeaked.

“Yeah, kid. It’s a gag gift.” Mr. Stark helpfully supplied, laughing in between words. 

“Oh.” Peter mumbled, staring back down at the book, feeling stupider than ever.

“You clearly don’t understand physics,” MJ began when recognition didn’t cross Peter’s features, “or else you wouldn’t have ended up like _that_.” She said, pointing one of her long, thin fingers to his propped-up legs.

That was what this was about? Maybe he did need this textbook. After all, he’d spent the last few minutes proving he really was a dummy.

Peter smiled, deciding to put this embarrassing moment behind him. “Thanks, MJ.”

“You’re welcome, loser.”

And Mr. Stark was still rolling on the floor laughing.

Once everyone had settled down, Happy offered up his gift next, explaining that part of it was in the kitchen and that he couldn’t have it until morning.

“Why, Happy? Tomorrow’s not my birthday.”

“They taste better the second day, trust me, kid.” Happy said. “I’ve made them tons of times.”

Huh. He didn’t know Happy could cook. That was new.

After agreeing he wouldn’t eat the mystery food until the sun returned to the sky, the man handed over the other part of his gift. It wasn’t wrapped, but Peter wasn’t surprised. Happy was a no-nonsense type of guy. Sometimes it made him wonder how he put up with his antics.

The gift was simple. Encased in an unpainted wooden frame was a news article from the _New York Times._ It was an interview with a girl who told the paper Spider-Man saved her life. Apparently, she was planning to commit suicide later that day, and if Spider-Man hadn’t stopped her in the street and talked to her, cared about her, she knew she would have done it. It was the first time she felt like someone cared in a long time.

_“And if you read this, Spidey, I want you to know how thankful I am. You helped me live another day.” _

There were tears in Peter’s eyes. He remembered that day, but he hadn’t realized just how important that conversation was. He thought she was simply having a bad day. It never occurred to him that trying to cheer someone up would have that great of an impact. He was touched beyond belief. And grateful Happy read the _Times_ every day.

He needed to hear that.

“Thank you, Happy.” He said all choked up, almost reverently.

“You deserve to know how much you’re appreciated, kid.” He replied.

Mr. Stark went next, breaking the tension by jokingly telling Happy he was getting demoted for ‘out-gifting’ him.

“Seriously, kid.” His mentor began, setting a neatly wrapped box in Peter’s lap. “My gift isn’t nearly as good.”

“I’m sure it will be amazing, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, well, wait until you open it to decide that.” Mr. Stark grumbled.

Tearing open the box at a vigorous speed, Peter was surprised to only find two handwritten notes inside.

_You deserve to make some good memories at Coney Island, kid. When you are feeling better, let’s schedule a day to go together. Just us. I’ll rent out the whole place. _

_ \- TS _

Coney Island was a complete disaster, Mr. Stark was right about that. And even then, Peter didn’t think those words covered it. He couldn’t think of anyone better to create new and happier memories with than the mentor he almost saw as a father. 

Peter smiled. “This is really thoughtful, Mr. Stark. I don’t know why you think it’s not a good gift.”

“Yeah? Well, you know I could’ve gone more extravagant, but your aunt didn’t think that was appropriate.”

May rolled her eyes. “It’s not, Tony. Don’t you think renting out Coney Island for two people is extravagant enough?”

Not wanting a parenting argument to break out at his birthday party, Peter decided to jump in. “Guys, guys, It’s fine. It’s great! I love it!”

That seemed to give them the hint.

Moving on to the next note in the box, Mr. Stark’s neat, recognizable handwriting jumping out at him, he read:

_As you know, your suit was ruined when you fell. I didn’t plan on bones sticking out of it, kid. I didn’t even know you could break bones. So, I have a preposition: let’s build a new, stronger suit together. I’m sure by putting our brains together we can come up with something better. _

_What do you say?_

_ \- TS_

Peter felt the grin on his face grow wider and wider as he read through the note. Coney Island was cool and all, but this was _so much cooler._ So far, working in the lab with Mr. Stark meant working on his web fluid and web shooters while his mentor worked on his own projects. But getting to do a project together? This was a dream come true!

“This is so awesome, Mr. Stark!” He blurted without thinking, childish excitement getting the better of him. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, Pete.” He said fondly, a genuine smile only the ones closest to him ever got to see. “Why don’t we start working on it tomorrow?”

“To—tomorrow?” Peter stuttered, eyes bulging and shock evident on his face.

Mr. Stark laughed. “Of course, Pete.”

“Wow. This is so cool!”

And Peter would be lying if he didn’t admit his cheeks turned red when everyone in the room chuckled at that statement.

Finally, it was Aunt May’s turn. She always went last, even when he was tiny and still living with his mom and dad. She and Ben had come over to their house for his fourth birthday. That party was one of the few memories he still had of his parents, and he thought about it when receiving gifts from May on every birthday since.

It didn’t hurt. It just was.

The first gift he opened from her was no surprise. A new backpack. Again. This one was a bright, neon-like red.

“You better not lose this one, Peter.” She chastised. “I found the brightest one possible on purpose. That way you’ll be able to spot it from a mile away.”

Peter blushed, a little embarrassed at being called out about his backpack losing habits in front of everyone. “Okay, May. I won’t lose it.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She said, a mischievous smile on her face. “Oh, and Peter? If you do lose it, just know the patterns on each new backpack will continue to get more and more outlandish.”

“Aw, c’mon, May. Seriously?” Peter whined. If one thing was for certain, outside the Spider-Man costume, Peter didn’t like drawing attention to himself, and crazy backpacks seemed like the perfect thing for Flash to tease him about.

“Yes, seriously. Now, open your next gift, we can talk about this later.” May said, gesturing to the two other wrapped parcels in his lap.

Grabbing the bigger of the two and opening it up, Peter found a straight razor, clearly an antique. It was housed in an ancient-looking box and engraved with a fancy ‘P’ on the glistening blade. He looked up at his aunt, a questioning look on his face. He’d never seen this before, but by the look of it, it was clearly important.

Peter wondered if he even deserved to have it.

“I went and got it polished last week.” May began. “It was originally your great-grandfather’s. Your father ended up with it. I know for a fact he wanted you to have it when you turned sixteen. He told Ben as much a few weeks after you were born.”

“Really?” Peter asked, voice shaking slightly. He didn’t own anything of his father’s. He was a simple man who hadn’t needed much to be happy.

“Really.” May confirmed.

At a loss for words, Peter decided to move on to the final gift. But if the last one made him emotional, this one pushed him over the edge. He couldn’t stop the few tears that escaped his eyes when he saw it.

It was Ben’s Rolex watch. The one he wore every day. The one with the worn leather band that signified an item well loved. He hadn’t seen it since that night. The one where everything changed. And the thought that someone had taken it off his corpse both revolted and relieved him. He hadn’t wanted him to be buried with it, but he was too overwhelmed, too preoccupied with grief, that he hadn’t said anything to May.

But it was here. And he was so, so happy.

“Thank you.” He whispered, looking at his aunt, finding tears in her eyes too.

And in that moment, Peter realized this was the best birthday he’d ever had. He felt so loved. Loved in a way he’d never felt before. Because material gifts were just a representation of the love the gift-giver had. Everyone had put so much thought into their gifts. And thought meant they truly cared for him. They truly loved him. They were proud of who he was becoming.

Sixteen was simple, but it was one for the books. 

\--

And if Peter snuck into the kitchen in the middle of the night and ate all Happy’s homemade churro’s, no one needed to know.

They were a gift, after all.

\--

It had been a couple weeks since his birthday, and August was nearing its end. School was set to start the first week of September, and Peter had been working extra hard at physical therapy to get up to scratch. It wasn’t as bad when he knew working on his new suit with Mr. Stark was awaiting him after his daily torture sessions. In fact, it motivated him.

He’d ditched the crutches a few days ago, and May and Mr. Stark had decided that was cause for celebration, taking him to his favorite Thai restaurant in Queens. It was the first time he left the tower since the accident. Fresh air that wasn’t confined to Mr. Stark’s balcony made him feel like he was home.

But today, he was back at the tower, his final physical assessment with Katie and Dr. Cho beginning in twenty minutes, and if it all went well, he would get to go home and sleep in his own bed for the first time in three months.

In some ways, he couldn’t wait. But in others, he would miss the tower and Mr. Stark’s constant company.

He was confident he would pass the assessment. After all, he’d been getting stronger and stronger with each passing day. He almost felt back to normal. It was easy to stand and walk without help now. He could even run a little bit. His only major hurdle was stairs. After climbing a few of them, his muscles always began to ache, and according to his physical therapist, they would for some time.

Peter found he didn’t care much as long as he didn’t have to see another wheelchair or crutches any time in the near future. At least he could walk easily now. That was all that mattered.

The alarm on his phone buzzed, signifying it was time to go down to the physical therapy room for his assessment. It was nice to be able to walk there himself. It was independence gained back, and it felt so, so good.

He wasn’t surprised to find Mr. Stark waiting for him at the room’s entrance. The man came to every appointment after all. But he was surprised to find May there, she hadn’t come to any of them, work and living in another borough making it difficult to do so.

But he supposed she wanted to be here for his last one, cheering him on and ready to take him home if it turned out well.

\--

And it did turn out well. He passed the assessment with flying colors, everyone proud and relieved and excited. Even Katie gave him a hug. And as annoying as Peter found her at times, he couldn’t deny he was touched at her thoughtfulness.

He was going home today. He was going to see his apartment for the first time in three months. And somehow the finality of it all hadn’t hit him until May told him to go up to the penthouse and pack his bags. It felt sad, strange and good all at the same time. Peter didn’t know what to make of it.

A plethora of his personal possessions—plus all the birthday gifts, of course—had somehow migrated from his bedroom in Queens to Mr. Stark’s penthouse over the course of three months. Clothes. Books. The laptop he’d constructed from his dumpster-diving days that Mr. Stark thought was an abomination. May had to bring over a few suitcases in her old Volvo for him to put his stuff in. And if he thought about it, it was kind of strange that all this stuff got here without their help.

As he stuffed a crinkled t-shirt into an old suitcase of Ben’s that was embossed with his initials, Peter looked up to see Mr. Stark at his bedroom door, leaning on the frame nonchalantly, obviously content to watch as he packed his bags.

“Hey, kid.” He said when they made eye contact. “You ready to get out of here?”

Peter sighed. It was a mixed bag of emotions all around. “I don’t know… I want to sleep in my own bed, but… I’ll miss it here.”

_I’ll miss seeing you every day_, he thought. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Whoa, kid.” Mr. Stark said, raising an eyebrow and coming to sit next to him on the bed crowded with clothes. “It’s not like you’re going across the country. You can _swing_ on over anytime.”

He didn’t miss the obviousness of his mentor’s pun, but he elected to ignore it. “I know, but… its been fun. In a way.” 

Mr. Stark hummed, and after a moment of thought, he spoke. “You know, Pete, you are the most positive person I’ve ever met. Don’t get rid of that giddy optimism. You’re a little Pollyanna. It’s grown on me.

“Have you even read _Pollyanna,_ Mr. Stark? We had to read it in middle school, and I gotta say, I feel like you pulled out that reference on purpose.” Peter said, knowing it was better to deflect, to not make a big deal of Mr. Stark’s round-about compliments.

“Of course I did, kid. Every reference I make is on purpose.” He said, smiling and winking.

Silence fell over the room for a little while as Peter continued to stuff clothes in his suitcase, paying no attention to folding them. If May saw it, she’d crinkle her eyebrows the way she did when upset and tell him to fold his clothes properly. But if Mr. Stark cared, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Peter.” The man said, catching his attention with the use of his full first name. “I really do hope you’ve learned something from all of this.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. He was mostly caught off guard by a sense of strange openness he rarely saw in Mr. Stark. It wasn’t like him to be gentle in this way. He knew it was hard for him to let down his walls even a fraction. Peter wasn’t a fool. He knew the man used jokes and references to mask how he really felt. He knew because he saw it in himself at times too. So, for him to say something like this, in this way, Peter knew it was important.

Thinking about his mentor’s statement, Peter realized he’d learned many things over the past three months. He was a little too impulsive for his own good, maybe somewhat brash and over-excitable. It wasn’t great that it took a plunging fall and subsequent injuries for him to learn that, but would he have learned it otherwise?

And there were some things he’d needed to re-learn too. Things he’d forgotten about himself. For one, he wasn’t one to give up. He worked hard no matter what. He rose to the occasion. If anything, the grueling hours spent in physical therapy reminded him of that. Maybe Mr. Stark was right, maybe he was a little like Pollyanna.

But most importantly, he re-learned that he was so loved. So cared for. And that his strange family, complete with a superhero billionaire, an aunt not even related by blood, and a bodyguard that cared for him more than he realized, would go to the ends of the earth for him.

It was beautiful. 

“I think I have.” Peter finally said, conviction in his tone.

Mr. Stark smiled, patted his knee, and said, “I’m glad, Pete. I’m really glad.”

\--

Aunt May was waiting for him in her Volvo. She had it parked in the underground parking garage meant for residents and guests of the penthouse. Mr. Stark had decided to walk him out. One, because he didn’t know where the private garage was, although FRIDAY could have easily directed him there. And two, because he had three suitcases to carry down. He could have easily lifted them all, but alas, he only had two hands.

“I’ll miss having you around every day, kid.” Mr. Stark said, once the suitcases were secured in the trunk.

“I’ll miss you too.” Peter replied.

And he wasn’t sure what got into him at that moment. After all, he knew Mr. Stark liked his personal space, but he just had to thank him in the kind of way he knew meant so much more than saying the words alone.

A hug.

He felt the man stiffen at the sudden contact, but after a short, awkward moment, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around Peter’s small frame.

“I know we aren’t there yet, but May says it’s the best way to say thank you. So, thank you. For everything.” Peter said.

For a moment, Peter thought he’d stunned the man into silence.

But then he spoke, emotion in his voice. “You’re welcome, kid.”

\--

The ride back to the apartment was quiet. Neither Peter nor May having much to say. As it was, Peter was content to stare out the window, relishing the scenery he hadn’t seen in a while. Although they’d gone to Queens a few days ago for Thai, it was dark out, only streetlamps and shop windows lighting their way. But the broad daylight was another thing entirely.

He was home.

An unidentifiable emotion came over him when their apartment complex came into view. He’d never felt so happy to see that brick and mortar building in his life. It was a wonderful thing. 

It was home.

But he supposed, in a way, the tower was home too. Just a different kind of home. One more polished and opulent. One filled with Mr. Stark things. Smelling of motor oil and expensive cologne. But his home in Queens was more rugged, slightly rough around the edges. It was filled with May and Ben and Peter things. It smelled of stale, trapped New York air and burnt dinners.

Just different to each other. That’s all it was.

But they were home.

At the stairwell, May insisted she carry two of the suitcases and Peter only carry one, telling him he needed to listen because he hadn’t yet attempted to walk up more than one flight of stairs in consecutive order. And after arguing about it for a few minutes, he acquiesced, grumbling that he would be fine.

But May was right. She always was.

His legs began their now-familiar burn towards the top of the second flight of stairs.

_Only three more, Peter. Only three more._ He told himself. And maybe he should have talked May into letting Mr. Stark fix the elevator after all.

But, did it really matter? Stairs were his only physical therapy exercise left to do, one that Katie told him he could do on his own time. And if he was planning on leaving his apartment regularly, he had the exercises already built into his day. In a way, it worked out perfectly.

By the time he reached the top of the fifth flight, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the ground right then and there. But he did it. And he would continue to do it until his legs didn’t hurt with any activity at all.

The walk to their apartment door felt like it took both an eternity and no time at all.

And then May was fiddling with her key, the door swinging open, revealing the living room he hadn’t seen in three months.

He paused in the threshold. A grin involuntarily taking up residence on his face.

He was home.

“Welcome home, Peter.” May said, pushing him through the doorway, a smile on her face.

Stepping into the living room, it dawned on him that he only wanted one thing. Dropping his suitcase on the floor, he ran to his bedroom, taking it in and plopping down on his bed, shoes and all.

The worn twin bed and old, familiar pillow had never felt more comfortable in his life. Breathing in the smell of May’s laundry detergent, he felt a feeling of elation. A feeling only the comfort of his messy bedroom could bring. 

He was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've reached the end. I've had so much fun writing this work, and I want to thank everyone who's been supporting it. I truly appreciate all of you! I have a couple more whumptober one-shots coming up (hopefully they will really be one-shots this time lol), as well as many more ideas for the Spider-Man fandom. I plan on continuing to write in this fandom for a long time to come, and I hope you will all stay tuned for that stuff. :)  
\--  
Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. They keep ya girl writing! :)  



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